Red shadows in the sunset
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: To make amend for his past and protect his future Jane finally killed Red John, at the cost of his newfound love with Lisbon. When, one year later, she is forced to take him back, she doesn't know if she could handle him. But with a new killer at large, there is too much at stake, and the game is on for all of them. And the price to pay could be just to high. Eventual Jane/Lisbon
1. Explosion deep within the heart

Title: Red Shadows in the sunset

rating: T to be on the safe side

Word count (total): ~34820

Characters: Jane/Lisbon; Brenda Leigh Johson (borrowed from the late tv show The Closer); team.

Summary: To make amend for his past and protect his future, Jane finally killed Red John, but his revenge destroyed the frail equilibrium of his newfound love with Lisbon. And even after a year apart, she still wasn't sure she was ready to take him back in her life, as much as she knew she simply had to. Also because a shadow from their past was going to threaten them once more, trying to get the mentalist back. The game was on.

Notes: Written for the Mentalist bigbang 2012-13 on Livejpurnal. Beated by Tromana, and cover by after the seventh and final season of The Closer (summer 2012) and in an uncertain post season 4 future for The Mentalist. References and spoilers from season 1 to 4 included, especially to pilot, season 2, 3.08, and season 3 and 4 finales. Written before the season 5 premiere, so it kinds of go AU from there.

Disclaimers: Nope. No way. Not mine.

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Chapter 1(of 11): Explosion deep within the heart

She didn't know if the nightmare had just started, or was finally ending. She didn't know if she was still living it, or if she had finally woken up. Yes, Teresa Lisbon was still alive, but, while sat in her office, all she could do was think about the last few hours. Like on autopilot, she kept reliving it, without any choice in the matter.

She held her head between her hands, and trembled. Mostly, it was the last remains of adrenalin, but also because of a well-known fear. Well-known, because of the Red John case, but, mostly because since she had allowed Jane to play an important role in her life, she had turned into a target for the serial killer. How many times had she risked her life because of him? Hardy, Gupta, O'Laughlin, Lorelei, and now…

Red John had, once again, sent the temptress, Lorelei. Only, this time the woman wasn't going after favors, and had decided (or, more likely, she had been ordered) to take matters into her own hands. What bothered Lisbon was that they hadn't seen it coming; it had looked like a comparatively normal day. The FBI had taken the brunette in for questioning, and once the three of them (Lorelei, Lisbon and Agent Ramirez) were alone, the CBI agent found herself held at knifepoint.

She remembered it so clearly. She wondered if there was any chance she could actually forget all about it. Jane's look was the worst. She wasn't looking forward dreaming of his desperation and madness later on. But she couldn't get rid of the image, even now; it was impressed in her mind. It was the same look he had had when he had shot Hardy, only, different. She knew that on that day he had done so on reflex, but she knew that he had still made a decision. He chose life, chose her.

"_It's okay, Lisbon, I'll help you out of this …." With Lorelei holding the knife at her throat, and the killer's breath hot on the skin of the back of her neck, Lisbon did her best to avoid looking at him. Yes, she was looking in his direction, but she refused to catch his eye by staring at the floor. She wasn't sure she could handle allowing him to see how damaged by life she truly was. Showing him, would mean opening up to him, and to a universe of possibilities. Possibilities she wasn't sure she could live with right now. She had almost made that mistake once, and she wasn't going to make it again. Not when it was pointless. _

"_Teresa, listen to me. It's going to be okay." The determination in his voice forced her to lift her gaze and look straight at the man opposite her. And when sea green met emerald green, the breath died in her throat, and she knew she was screwed. Whatever happened, there was no turning back, for the both of them._

_She heard a gunshot at the back of the mirror, and with her peripheral sight, she saw the shiny surface shattered. The dagger went to the ground as Lisbon felt a tiny rivulet of hot blood running down her chest, and with a gasp, Lorelei Martins fell on the ground. _

She didn't know why she wanted to spare Jane the pain. Maybe it was because he had suffered enough already, or maybe it was because she had never forgotten the words uttered in the darkness of her office one night a long time ago, before they were about to fake her death. _Good Luck, Teresa. Love you. _

But, she knew it wasn't like that. It had started a long time before, when she just wished for him to move on and to live. When they were just coworkers and she used to smile as she walked by his couch late at night.

_Still here, Mr. Jane? With all due respect, but do you really have nothing better to do on a Friday evening than napping on an old couch in the office? I don't think it's healthy spending all your time here._

Back then, she had smiled. Even if her words were laced with sincerity, she had still smiled as she teased him. But then, she didn't know when and she didn't know how things had changed between them. _He _had changed, and had been more honest with her, and he hurt when he caused her pain, in his endless war to get his revenge.

So much had changed, and nothing was a joke between them any longer.

_You'd choose life. I trust you. We are your family and you are betraying us. There are people who care about you. We can work this out, we'll fix it. God knows I'm happy you are back, it's a huge relief._

_I'll never hurt you on purpose. I'll always save you. I need your help. You are sweet. Love you, Teresa._

After their chance encounter with Sophie Miller, Lisbon had been partly aware that they were getting somehow closer, possibly too close. At night, she had often wondered if Hardy's words meant something more than what he actually said. Maybe, back then, _he _had seen something they weren't ready to face yet. Maybe _he _knew that there was a certain emotion buried deep within their hearts because they still couldn't acknowledge it.

Late at night, she had often wondered if Hardy admitted she was a target because she was the leading investigator or because of something else. And why _he_ didn't want to kill her as he did with all the other "collateral damage" but like he liked to take care of his victims of choosing. What made her special, deserving the same treatment, and time, he took for Angela Ruskin-Jane?

_I'll try to persuade Red John to kill you quick and clean instead of slow and nasty, like he is planning to._

That day, she had almost gotten killed at the hands of one of Red John's minions. And in the following years, it had happened, again and again. That first time - and this time - she knew that she was terrified, probably because she knew that she didn't have time to prepare herself for her imminent demise. Not like when another one of Red John's people put a bomb around her chest.

At times, though, her mind had wandered to Patrick Jane, on the sufferance her death could impose on him, but mostly, on her regrets. And on the regrets he would have, if she were to die. She remembered the trip in his car, and his low voice, sad, sweet, and scared. He had never ended his sentence, always claimed he was buying themselves time, but after he had confessed her of his love in her office, she had always asked herself if it was that he was talking about on that occasion too. Did he get cold feet at the last minute, just before admitting that his own feelings for her run deeper than they should? If he did, then she could understand him. The very same thing had happened to her, a long time before that. Only, they weren't in a high school or her office, but inside a crate, on their way to Mexico.

"_You know, some people might ask you why you signed on with me in the first place."_

"_We catch a lot of bad guys, and most days it's enough. Also, I…" she stared at him, lost in his eyes, the breath dying in her throat. She closed and unclosed her fingers, like she was deciding whether or not to touch something. Then she looked at her own feet as she took a couple of steps forwards She took a big breath, and Jane leaned closer to her, until he was so close she could feel his hot breath on her. She was going to talk, and she had already opened her mouth to make her confession, the one that will change everything, when a noise coming from the outside stopped her. It killed the moment before it could actually begin. In the blink of an eye, they were back to Agent Lisbon and Consultant Jane. _

He always knew that there was a part of Lisbon that desperately wanted to tell him how she felt, how deep her love for him ran. Like he had always known that she had heard him that night in her office, and actually remembered those fateful words. Still, he had never pushed her. Part of him regretted his admission. Not because it wasn't true; that was one of his most sincere moments. It was because Lisbon deserved so much more than him. He was a broken man who didn't deserve any happiness at all. He didn't deserve Lisbon's love, like he hadn't deserved Angela's. Jane knew, and for a long time, he had hoped she did too. Or, at least, that she was smart enough to stay the hell away from him.

So, he found quite funny that he wasn't the issue in their non-existent relationship.

For starters, Lisbon believed she wasn't good enough for him. Having grown up with no female role model, with no mother to ask for advice, it meant that even in adulthood, Teresa Lisbon was quite unsure about herself as a woman. The fact that she applied the same process to her work and to her soul as well didn't exactly help either.

Then, there were her control issues: Teresa had always tried her best to keep an iron grip on her life, and Jane liked to do the same too. She didn't like it, and yet she didn't know if she was supposed to give up control or fight to get it.

Mostly, though, it was a matter of feelings. She was scared of admitting what she felt because she was scared he wasn't going to reciprocate her feelings, and that he'd laugh at her. But sometimes, what she really found scary was the possibility that he could actually feel the same. Because with love came power, and with that, the potential to get her heart broken.

She just didn't get it. How couldn't she understand that it wasn't a broken heart he wanted to witness? He just wanted her, even though she deserved better. It didn't matter he knew it was wrong. But, now he couldn't back up any longer. He had said the words out loud once already, and she still wasn't sure if he actually meant them or not. He regretted having told her he had forgotten what he said because he was hyped up. Then, there was the time when he had once freaked out and closed his mouth before he could actually end the sentence.

Now, it was all too much.

He had almost lost her once again, this time to the woman Red John had offered up to him, and the thought that Lisbon could have died thinking it had been all a ruse just broke his heart. He couldn't allow her to think she was a means to an end like Lorelei. She needed to know she meant so much for him, more than she was supposed to, actually.

"Hey." He closed the door at his back as he entered. He smiled that lazy, sad smile of his. Jane closed the blinds, but Lisbon didn't notice it. She barely registered his presence in the first place. She didn't even lift her gaze from that point on the marble floor she seemed almost obsessed with right now. It broke his heart, seeing her this heartbroken and shattered.

He sat beside her on the couch and took her face between his strong hands. Then, he forced her to meet his gaze once more, just like he had done in the interrogation room and in this same office a long time before, when he told her the truth only to deny it afterwards.

She was silently crying, but was fighting, and losing, a battle so that he couldn't see it. He didn't care, though, and he wanted for her to understand it. He wanted her, no matter what. She was Lisbon, _his_ Lisbon.

He smiled a sad smile, one of the honest and sincere ones, and he told her everything he needed without the need for words. He hoped it was enough for her to understand that this time he wasn't lying. She knew the difference. He had already shared with her in the past, sometimes because he wanted to, other times because he had to. This time, though, what he needed was for her to believe him.

"I meant every word I said that night" he whispered as he got closer and closer to her, his lips grazing her skin. He didn't touch her lips yet, though; he needed her to believe him, and not think it was a spur of the moment thing. She needed to know that even back then, he had been honest, and that he still regretted not having finished their talk so many years before.

"_Listen, Lisbon, if this doesn't turn out well, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, but the moment has never presented itself, and…"_

"_Jane, no, I don't think it's the best time to confess whatever you are planning of confessing…."_

"_If I don't talk now, then when?"_

He finally decided that enough was enough, and surrendered to desire. He kissed her like he should have kissed her a long time before. But, it had been a long time since he had last been intimate with a woman - one he actually wanted, at least. With Lorelei it had been just sex, biofeedback and allowing her to be on top and do whatever she wanted, so he couldn't see who she wasn't.

Lisbon was different.

He remembered all the times he had hold her, when he had tried to hypnotize her, when he had danced with her, inspired her scent and almost kissed her hair, and when he had hugged her and hold her hand in the desert. He didn't know when he got that she was more than a friend, or a surrogate sister, to him. Maybe it was at that high school reunion, when the world stopped and then it was born anew while he was in her arms, or maybe it was being away from her for those six, long months.

He struggled to control his desire, and his need for the woman in his arms, and he could feel it was the same for her. It had been a long time for her too. Not because of the sex - she had been with many other men since they met - but because it was _him_. He was a man she wanted with her soul and not just her body. It didn't matter that she had tried to date, that he had tried to show her what was better for her and that it wasn't him. It had always been about the two of them.

She had wanted him for so long. And right now, it was clear that she needed him. As a consequence, he couldn't fight it any longer.

He knew that letting it go this way was selfish, that they shouldn't remember they were alive through sex. But, because it was what they both wanted it, he still allowed himself what he had denied himself for so long: love and affection, on both sides. He got lost in her, in the deepness that was her body and her soul, and he remembered.

He remembered she was there with him, alive, and that nothing else mattered. He forgot everything and everyone else, but just for a fraction of second, until _their _glares started haunting his mind. Jane could almost hear Red John's voice, and then he remembered there were things he was supposed to do as well. That it was almost time.

Lisbon knew it. She felt it the moment he froze, for just an instant. But she couldn't care any less. It wasn't because she didn't love him, quite the opposite. She had just come to pact with reality, and had decided to accept him for whom and what he was. _There are things you can't fix. _

Besides, she knew that with Patrick Jane there was more than met the eye. He was a good man who was full of passion and had a huge heart. She had always known it, but hearing his confession of love to his late wife on that video just made her understand him better. It made her love him even more than how she already did.

She had allowed Patrick Jane in her life and now, into her bed as well, and she was scared. She knew the truth: he was going to break her heart. She was going to suffer because that was the way of the world. It was how it went for her every time she fell for a man. Her fate had been sealed the moment she first saw him, when she understood with a simple glance that he was going to break her eventually, one way or another. She had compromised herself for him. Lisbon had tried to fight it but she had failed, because there was nothing she could do about it. It was, after all, how her world worked.

Still, she allowed herself a small glint of hope as he moved slowly and carefully inside her. She wanted to believe he wasn't going to turn her world upside down.

But he was already planning to.


	2. The way of the world

Notes: Written for the Mentalist bigbang 2012-13 on Livejpurnal. Beated by _**Tromana**_, and cover by **_Browneyesparker_**. Set after the seventh and final season of The Closer (summer 2012) and in an uncertain post season 4 future for The Mentalist. References and spoilers from season 1 to 4 included, especially to pilot, season 2, 3.08, and season 3 and 4 finales. Written before the season 5 premiere, so it kinds of go AU from there.

Disclaimers: Nope. No way. Not mine.

* * *

Chapter 2 (of 11): The Way of the world

Her whole body hurt like hell. It wasn't that bad, she repeated to herself, the blade had just grazed her skin. Regardless, it still hurt. However, she'd never allow herself to succumb to pain; she wasn't going to take anything to treat it. She needed the physical pain to remember the pain _her_ _soul _was in. That was an injury she had anticipated for longer than she cared to admit.

She had always been such an emotional masochist, she realized as she walked in the corridors of the CBI. Lisbon was headed towards the holding cell and massaged the bridge of her nose as she did so. When it came to men, she was even worse: her father, who didn't want to be saved nor helped, but yet she had never abandoned him; Bosco, she loved with all her heart but never in the open, because it was so wrong; the other delusional relationships she had been in…and now, _Jane._

She entered the room as soon as one of the two guards allowed her to, and for the first time in days she was finally strong enough to face _him_. She could barely even think about him because she was so angry. It was entirely his fault.

They were alone; she stood opposite him, on one side of the room. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and the bondage was so visible. That was what he was staring at, as if he could barely conceive it. He didn't seem to understand that she wasn't just suffering from physical pain because of him, but her entire being was strained. She would have laughed if her chest didn't hurt so much. It was crazy. Jane knew everything and everyone, and yet, he was blind to the ones he was the closest to. She wondered if it wasn't some kind of shield, to protect him from sufferance and pain. Not that it really mattered right now; this wasn't about him at all.

She clenched and unclenched her fists as she looked at him with the fury of her green eyes. Lisbon studied and accused him as she glared at him, but he still looked numb. He had betrayed her, the team, and everything they stood for, and he just didn't see it.

For the first time since she had entered in the room, she realized something. It was seemingly insignificant, but it still made her feel uncomfortable: he lacked his jacket, and she knew it was stupid, being upset about something like that, but without the three piece suit, he seemed incomplete.

Lisbon knew his jacket was probably in evidence right now, with the three bullet holes. Besides, he wasn't _that man_ any longer; the man she knew, she had grown to love, or maybe… maybe he had never been that man in the first place. Maybe she had merely been a puppet in his hands for so long; for almost ten long years.

The night they had shared, the night they've been i_ntimately_ together, was probably part of the plan as well. He had probably done it to win her trust and manipulate her. It had made her look like a fool. He had done it before with Lorelei, and even further back, with the clients in his past life.

_She was, _he had once said in that damn video. She was, not _she is. _Lisbon wasn't his present, even if she wanted to be. She wasn't his beloved wife and the mother of his dear daughter. She was just his boss; nothing more, nothing less. She wasn't, and would never be his. He had just played her, like he did with everyone else. After all, who knew her strings more than the man himself? _Women are like accordions _he once said. Looks like he was right in the end.

"Lisbon…" he started, standing up from the cold metal chair in an attempt to get closer to her. She silenced him with a single finger as soon as she noticed the movement. She wasn't going to have any of it. She didn't care how he was looking at her, it didn't matter if his eyes looked empty or desperate or maybe even… longingly, for her, specifically.

"Teresa…" Her given name was like a plea coming from his lips and that was what it was supposed to be. He hoped that her given name, that its charm would work once again, and that she would have reacted somehow. Everything, after all, was better than her silence right now.

He did get a reaction from it.

She slapped him, and for once, she didn't regret having caused him physical pain. He deserved it. And she was done with being played by this devil under the guise of an angel. She had had faith in him for longer than she was supposed to, but she had had enough.

She got closer and closer, taking his hands in her own, studying and examining them. Lisbon hated herself for trembling at the memory of how they felt on her just a couple of nights before, but she couldn't help it. The memory of how they felt then, the lingering touches which caused the breath to die in her throat.

Jane smiled wistfully as she held his hands. He believed there was hope for them, and that maybe she understood that he didn't do it just for the loved and lost ones, but for her as well. It wasn't just about revenge anymore, but about fulfilling his promises. It wasn't just about the past now, but the future as well, _their _future.

She shook her head as she freed him from the handcuffs. He looked at her, quizzically, mouthing a silent why. He hoped it was because she loved him enough, because she understood why he did it, and because he needed her. He was well aware of how egoistical it was, but that part of him couldn't be helped, nor changed. He wanted her and he needed her to want him back. Lisbon was the only person who made him feel like a better man.

"The DA dropped the charges," she said. Then, she remained silent for few, interminable minutes, her eyes focused on his hands. She couldn't look him in the eye; she thought she'd lose it if she did. He tried to open his mouth once more, but again, she stopped him before he could go on, before he could say anything more. She didn't want to hear his voice or his excuses. As long as he was silent, she could believe he was somebody else despite the fact she could see him standing before her. "According to a CBI and FBI joint investigation, you fired at Jonathan Michael Shaw, aka Red John, to save my life. LaRoche said he and the team arrived at the scene while Shaw was trying to kill me, and they saw everything. So, I guess it's thank you, right?" She shook once again her head; her laughter was cruel. The words were mechanical, he realized; void and empty of any emotion. No, he corrected himself, there was an emotion behind it all: betrayal.

And he knew why. Lisbon, the team, and even LaRoche had just lied for him. He hadn't killed his enemy to protect her; Lisbon was safe and sound. Red John was hurt, bleeding in a corner of her bedroom and no longer a threat. And he had killed him in cold blood…. The real regret was that he hadn't done it in the way he had hoped. He'd never be sorry for having rid humanity of that monster, and she should understand it. Lisbon knew him better than anyone; she knew every aspect of him and still she had remained by his side.

Like she had done in the past, she was supposed to forgive and forget; even more so now that they had shared a bed and the promise of a tomorrow. It was a tomorrow that he could already taste, now that they were free from the Nightmare of Red John. He hoped with all his heart that his love, _their_ love, could be enough to move on together, and finally be happy sharing a piece of sunset.

But she let go of his hands, and she shook her head again. She wasn't looking at him, because she simply couldn't any longer. He wasn't the man she had fallen in love with, the one she had shared a night of passion with.

But, the funny thing was, she still did love him. She was well aware that she had to be crazy to love him even after everything. Jane manipulated, lied, and he wasn't in love with her, despite what he said. But she knew him, now. Jane used everybody. He had used Lorelei, he had used Rosalind and he had done the same with her. He took advantage of her feelings to get what he wanted.

"So, what's the deal? Do I have to say how sorry I am? Do I have to make my excuses to LaRoche or Bertram? Or do you want me to say a word to the people I accused of being Red John's inside men?"

He walked towards her, grinning, and yet she kept her distance. He craved her; he couldn't wait to have her back into his arms, to kiss her senseless, be alone with her and make tender love to her… but she wasn't willing to co-operate. Jane couldn't blame her for that, but it still hurt.

And that was when she finally looked at him; _really _looked at him. He could see the cold, empty, betrayed, furious, shadow of the woman he made love to just two days prior. "The deal is that you are out of the CBI by Monday. I don't want to see or to hear from you ever again… from now, you no longer are part of the CBI or of my team." She didn't need to add 'and of my life' because it was quite clear, it was what her hissed words said. She turned, and walked away, without saying anything else and without allowing him to reply. And that was when he knew.

She didn't know that he did it for her as well and that he was really in love. Either that or she didn't care anymore, not after he had betrayed her and broke his promise. He hadn't been able to protect or save her. She had been injured by a bullet fired by one of Red John's people, and her skin was now scarred because of Red John's dagger. But he, Patrick Jane, had damaged her soul by killing Red John with his bare hands instead of allowing her to take control.

Now, he wasn't sure if she was willing to give him another chance to set things right. He couldn't show her just how important she was to him. He needed to move on, because he had found a woman to love, to marry and have children with. That woman was her, and he was finally ready to admit it, to himself and the whole world.

But she didn't seem to care any longer. Deep in his heart, Jane knew that sooner or later, he was going to make it right. He was going to have to give her space and time because he loved her. And then, he was going to hit, and he was going to collect. Whether she liked it or not, she was the only one for him, and he wasn't ready to give up on her, not yet.

It would happen in due time.

* * *

A/N 2: The way of the world was the original title of this fic. It was also the title of the fic that originated this multichapter, that few of you could have read in the past, and that I erased when season 4 opening made them into a complete and senseless AU.


	3. An heart full of ice and fire

_One year later…_

She was multitasking when the doorbell rang: talking on the phone to Rigsby, looking for the keys of the CBI-issue SUV and trying to put on her leather jacket. She didn't bother checking who was outside, she just opened the door. Fran Ramirez's calling was unique, and Lisbon wouldn't want her any other way.

And besides, she had been the one calling Fran just half an hour before, and she knew how Fran worked. Her friend was like a Swiss clock: always perfectly on time. That was yet another thing she wouldn't have had any different. God only knew how hard it may be finding someone else just like her: punctual and who didn't complain about her odd hours.

"Yes. No. No. No, I told you that there's no need for you to…yes, I know where it is. No! Wayne, Wayne, I told you I can go there on my own. What do you mean….? Okay, listen, you know what? I'll just use my satnav. No, no. I told you, not to! Okay, good. Then, what about… uhm, so, they didn't say what they think? And what about Agent Johnson, what did she say? Okay, so we are pretty sure… I'll be there in an hour or so. I'll see you there."

She hung up and embraced the older Hispanic woman with a bright, but tired, smile. In the last year, Fran had been like the mother Lisbon had been robbed of when she was too young. "Everything's in working order right now, but if you have a problem, call me."

"Teresa, honey, _you _are the one with the problems, if they called you while you are still on leave."

Although she should have been sad - Teresa being called in meant someone was dead - Fran couldn't help but feel proud of her achievements. It didn't matter that they weren't related by blood. But maybe, life was teaching them a lesson; it didn't take blood to be a family. And if the CBI was calling her, it was because they thought she was the only one who could do something about their current issue. They needed her and they always would, as long as she was with them.

Like she did on every occasion she went away, Lisbon took one last look around. Then, she left the spare copy of her keys with Fran. Although her actions were the same, her behavior was different. Teresa went rigid, and didn't offer a last kiss to her surrogate mother, nor did she talk. She smiled, though, but it just worried Fran furthermore. The smile didn't reach Teresa's eyes; her expression was forced.

She didn't even need to ask Teresa if the call and the case in general were giving her a bad feeling. She could see that on her face.

But maybe, Teresa thought, she was just being paranoid, after everything that had happened in the last few years… Hightower's forced resignation, Wainwrights' death, and LaRoche was sent to a God Forsaken hellhole. Then, Bertram being demoted over the way he had handled the whole Red John affair and Van Pelt decided to end her police career, unable to let it go of O'Laughlin. Soon after, Brenda Leigh Johnson, former CIA, former LAPD deputy chief, became her new superior. But she still had to deal with Jane killing Carter, Jane sleeping with Lorelei and Jane killing the real Red John. And finally there was Jane leaving. Her life… sometimes, she was so tired she didn't even feel like thinking about her life. It just made her sad.

A red light blinked before her eyes and she stopped the car, realizing for the first time she had been on the road. She run a hand through her long hair, and berated herself. She had vowed to stop thinking about him, the man who had betrayed her in every possible way, and yet, she simply couldn't.

And if her hunch was correct, and given that Johnson corroborated her, it had to be, she already knew that she was going to land up thinking about him 24/7 during this case.

Besides, she just had to be right. Last time she had been so wrong was with him, and that was a mistake she wasn't willing to repeat any time soon.

….

Being engulfed by thoughts, memories and regrets, all related to him, made the journey tortuous. Even though it "only" took her 54 minutes to reach her destination, it still felt like an eternity.

She knew it was wrong but, even if she'd never dare to admit it out loud, she was missing him. Lisbon was still missing both Patrick and Jane. She knew it was stupid, but he had been _her Patrick _for just a few days. And she missed it,_ him_. And she didn't even bother thinking about the fact that she felt guilty when she was with him. Any guilt she felt because of Jane was consolidated and had become a part of her. She was used to it and sometimes, it even reminded her that she was still alive.

"Agent Lisbon, over here!"

Agent Johnson's voice, with her strong southern accent, awoke her from her reverie, and suddenly Lisbon was brought back full force to her role as team leader of the SCU. The sound of sirens and radio static, the blinking red and blue lights of the patrol cars made her remember who she was supposed to be right now. Mistakes were something she couldn't afford in this situation. So, she had to stop being Teresa for now; it was a luxury she couldn't afford.

"Ma'am."

In the dark of the moonless night of Desmont, Lisbon smiled as she faced the blond woman. With Brenda Leigh Johnson her smiles were never polite and formal, they were honest and genuine. Despite everything, she couldn't help but liking the military brat from Georgia: Brenda was a closer, just like Jane still was somewhere. She solved cases and got confessions which led to convictions. And, instead of following the rules, she had always like bending them a tiny bit to her needs. It wasn't always a good thing; in the end, it had cost her the position of Chief of Police. But at least her confessions had always been somehow bulletproof in tribunals.

But what Lisbon really liked, though, was how much they resembled each other. They were both human disasters in their private lives. Both isolated by their own families for many reasons. Both were unable to have proper relationships because of their respective jobs. They even shared the same fondness for cookies, and particularly, for Fran's works of art.

"I'm so sorry to have to call you back, Agent Lisbon. I know you still have few days of leave left, but due to your interest in both cases, I was wondering if maybe…."

She looked at her boss and Lisbon hoped that she realized that she understood the necessity and didn't mind in the slightest. But, she wasn't supposed to just jump on the case right now. During her time off, she talked with Rigsby, with Cho and they kept her updated. Part of her would have liked to kill Brenda, as much as she loved her. They should have called her far sooner than this.

Then, Lisbon's eyes met with Brenda's, and the dark haired cop found herself staring at something she knew too well. Suddenly, she remembered the rumors and speculation she had heard about this former CIA interrogator, and she understood. Brenda Leigh Johnson needed to fix things. Not just cases, but things, people, everything and everyone, and that included the SCU team leader. Johnson was trying to help her out.

But… she was right about the case and she hated it. Especially in this particular situation.

"It's ok, ma'am, I understand. I've been on the job long enough to know how it works…"

This may have been her job – and for the most part, she did love it - but there were times she couldn't stand it too. Like when she had to renounce to certain things in her life to get it done.

Rigsby appeared out of nowhere, materializing among the crowd of police officers and CSI technicians. He nodded in their direction, signaling the green light to finally take possession of the crime scene. Entering the suburban home, Teresa kept glancing around, looking for signs of something untoward, but there was no evidence. At first glance, everything looked perfectly normal.

"This way, boss. Ma'am." He nodded once again once they were by his side. "Cho's canvassing the area."

He didn't wait for her to ask and all Lisbon could do was nod in appreciation. Despite Van Pelt's leaving, the team still knew how to operate like a well-oiled machine, even when she wasn't there to keep order herself. Johnson kept looking at them and the satisfaction in her expression made it all the better. She appreciated being able to see the respect from her superior, or maybe…

No, Lisbon thought, it couldn't be. Johnson wasn't hiding anything. It didn't mean a thing that she was biting her lips. She was just nervous; it had to be that. Or maybe, it really did mean something. Or maybe she was being paranoid, due to working with Jane for so long. Minelli and Bosco were probably right; he had changed her, ruined her in more ways than she had originally thought.

"He's escalating. It's the second time he's killed this month. Before, it was every two months or so…." Rigsby pondered. Lisbon suppressed a smile of pride; it would have been inappropriate. But Rigsby was a damn good cop. All it had taken was the removal of Van Pelt and the addition of Ben and Sarah to the equation for him to meet his true potential. And in part, he had done it to help her through her current debacle. Lisbon appreciated that kind of loyalty more than she could possibly say.

Lisbon nodded again, but she was still watching Brenda. Her boss wasn't behaving normally, that was for certain. She wasn't sure she had already seen the other woman behaving in such a way, but she knew she was upset. And to make Brenda upset, it took a lot.

Just a case like that could do the trick, something that didn't even seem real, that looked like taken from a horror movie. Or maybe…the past could do something like that to her too.

The first body they found was in the corridor. It belonged to the husband and he had been killed with an iron bat. They didn't stop, and not only because the coroner was still processing the scene along with a guy from CSI, but also because they wanted to see _her _first. They moved to the bedroom, and with a gloved hand, Lisbon opened the door once again. She almost threw up when she saw the spectacle, almost the same scene as in the past. It was almost identical to the one she saw ten years ago, and like so many others they had seen in the last few months.

Carolyn, the wife, was on the bed, cut open and had been left to bleed to death. The many cuts were in the well-known style that Lisbon and Rigsby had witnessed so many times in the past. Her blue eyes were open, glassy and stone cold, facing a wall. They turned to look in the same direction she did, and there it was, his calling card. The once-plain wall had been decorated by a deadly picture, a smiley face drawn with the blood of the victim, with two fingers of a gloved hand. It was not exactly like Red John used to do, but close enough.

Lisbon was about to speak when another voice cut her off before she could say a single word.

"That's not Red John, I can assure you. I'd say a black sheep escaped when we shut down his operation, but I'd not be surprised if it was just the work of a copycat."

She turned slowly, and she saw _him_ standing right before her. Lisbon thought he wasn't going to return. She thought _he_ had listened to her for once. She was still trying to avoid him, but here _he_ was, as handsome and charismatic as ever. He even appeared to be well-rested now. His presence filled the room, gathered all the attention around his persona.

At Lisbon's side, Brenda started staring guiltily at her feet. She did it. She had called _Patrick Jan_e back.

Teresa shivered, unable to find the right words. Still, she fought with all her strength. She couldn't lower her walls right now, not with him around.

"That's not someone from his network," she said, confidently. Jane looked at her quizzically, with a small, curious smile. Right now, she hated him. Did he really think they couldn't survive without him?

"Oh, interesting, Lisbon. Are you telling me that you honestly believe that it's Red John himself?"

She laughed at him, cold and callously. She didn't like that he was trying his best to make them appear incompetent.

"Oh, of course not, Mr. Jane. If I am not mistaken, last year you were able to break the mole in the FBI, and were finally able to get your revenge. And thanks to your help, we did shut down his whole operation." She hissed the words, trying desperately to hurt him. She left the room, trying her best to seem calm and controlled. But, when she passed at his side, a little too close for comfort, she still shivered, as she felt like he wanted to try to touch her.

She didn't like that he was there with them, and she disliked his attempt to show a display of physical intimacy with her even more so. He didn't have any claim over her now. If he thought that squeezing her hand was enough to allow him back in her existence after he had been gone for over a year, he was wrong. She knew what she told him and she had no intention of changing her mind. Still, he should have fought for her; he should have tried to change her mind even after he had betrayed her and the whole team, with everything they stood for.

He was the child she had always accused him of being.

She exchanged a couple of words with CSI, with the promise that evidence would be on her desk first thing the following morning. She could imagine Jane being skeptic, after all, a good number of CSI agents were corrupted and among Red John's legion. But Lisbon herself had been among the ones who hand-picked this unit. They finally had a CSI team worthy of the name and the paycheck.

At her back, she could feel Jane smirking. The bastard had been following her the whole time.

She turned ready to fight him, her rage made ten times bigger, stronger, because of his nonchalance. He wasn't supposed to be there; he didn't deserve it. He probably didn't even have the legal authority to be on site. "Leave," she just said, clenching and unclenching her fists at her side.

"Nope," he answered, rolling and popping the p, mocking her a tiny bit. The old, familiar urge to hit him came back full force, and for a second, she could pretend the last year had never happened.

Then, she remembered, and she fought back tears she didn't want to share for him in front of him. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve being heartbroken over him all over again.

He read her pain, her sufferance, and her fear, and he wanted to reach out for her. He wanted to tell her he had just tried to give her the necessary time and space, and that he was going to eventually return to her.

He couldn't. It wasn't time yet.

"I mean, I can't leave. The Director and Special Agent Johnson asked me to consult on the case."

The weight of the world fell on her shoulders, and under such pressure, her whole being collapsed. She had thought she was going to never see him again. But here he was, and he was going to stay and help them on this case.

The tears were almost there, but she fought against them. Crying right now would be dangerous because _he_ was dangerous. He had already broken her heart once, but now too much was at stake. She wasn't the only part of the equation to consider any longer. She'd never tell him how much she still loved him, no way. He needed to think she hated him, that she wasn't ready or willing, to forgive and forget what he had done. She simply turned away from him and left, coming back in the crowd of police officers and feds, without saying a sole word.

She knew his gaze was focused on her; she didn't need to turn to know this. What she didn't know, as she felt herself burning for him yet again despite everything, was what his eyes looked like in that moment.


	4. Nothing is written in the stones

A/n Thanks to my guests and anonimous reviewers!

It was ten to nine the next morning and Lisbon wasn't at the office yet.

That was unusual in itself; under any normal circumstances, she would always be the first one to set foot in the bullpen. During a Red John related case, chances of her being late were virtually zero.

Lisbon had never been this late before. The only reason he used to arrive before her was because he practically lived at the CBI. It wasn't like her, even if…. Well, the only thing he could do was think about the past. He had no reason, no way to know the present. It had been over a year, and in a year, so many things could have changed, Lisbon included.

Under the murder board, Cho and Rigsby were still studying the evidence, plotting like two wannabe revolutionaries. They hadn't allowed him close to them, saying that Lisbon had to clear him first, before allowing him close to the evidence. They didn't want another case sent to hell in a court of justice just because he was involved. He was almost positive they were referring mostly to his antics. The reason behind the avoidance of his persona, he could bet it was rather personal and unprofessional.

He kept staring at them from his desk, and he hoped it would be enough to convince them to let it go, or at least to unnerve them to the point they'd just feel like escaping. However, neither of them lifted their eyes from their files and computer monitors. They didn't even seem worried by the lack of Lisbon. They appeared rather used to it, like it was normal, everyday occurrence.

He closed his eyes, and, steadily, he breathed in and out, clenching his fists. It took him a moment to get his emotions and mind back under control. How much had everything changed during the last year? Part of him regretted leaving and not having been around to witness these changes, but it was the only thing he could have done back then. Lisbon needed her space, and so did he. He had been at war for far too long, and he had to find a way to get back in contact with life after Red John's ultimate demise. It was quite hilarious, too, that he had been completely and utterly at peace only after he had been asked to help Lisbon's team out.

He sighed a few times, and with an expression of both bother and curiosity, he started looking around, fidgeting. He hadn't seen Agent Johnson yet so either she hadn't bothered to come down from her office, or she was aware that Lisbon wasn't going to join them until late. Of course, there was also the possibility that she hadn't arrived yet herself, or that she wasn't there simply because she just cared about her job and didn't give a damn about her 'people'.

He didn't know either way just yet. Even though he had always been proud of his ability of reading people at first glance, and being able to understand everything about them moments later, she had somehow escaped his comprehension. With dear, old Brenda it was very hard, with the mixed signals she kept sending in his direction. Or maybe, it was because she was a bit too much like him.

She closed cases like him and labeled herself as a 'closer'. She used her mind just like him. Her method of solving crimes was all about misleading and manipulation, just like him. They even had the same kind of obsession in common: like he had spent a good part of his life hunting down Red John, Johnson had been after a serial rapist, later turned serial killer, for many years. Her obsession, though, from what he had gathered, had turned into a personal battle just at a later date. Phillip Stroh had started messing around with her as well, until their final encounter, when, after he had broken into her place, she had shot at him to save her life and that of the one of a young witness she was taking care of.

Those similarities were supposed to help him out, but they didn't: Brenda was a living enigma.

He wondered if it was her CIA training, not that he could ever say for sure. People weren't supposed to give away such information, and even if there were rumors, it wasn't like he could know firsthand. People at the CBI just didn't talk with him anymore. It was kind of like having a world filled with people just like Sam Bosco, not that he could actually blame them. He was almost positive that Bosco had been the only one who completely understood him. Threating him was one of the best things he had ever done.

Sam was right about Lisbon, and there was no denying it. He still remembered when the older man had faced him, foretelling what had happened after his death. The man had told them that Jane wasn't good at anything if not hurting and breaking her, and that he would eventually destroy her, and so it happened. In the end, it didn't matter the how and when. He had still broken her, even if he had a good reason to do so. He didn't do it out of revenge but out of his love for her.

In the end, when he had killed the monster, he had done it to keep a promise: he had done it to save her. Even if they had been in some kind of twisted relationship back then (which they had been, as much as she liked to deny it), he would still have done it. It just wasn't safe for her with Red John still walking the world as a free man. Not when she had been almost killed by the serial killer's men four times: Hardy, O'Laughlin, Gupta, and Lorelei. Three times he had witnessed it, once he had listened to her on the phone. Every time, it had been torture, like walking death row, like falling yet again in the bright white nightmare filled with emptiness that was Sophie Miller's asylum.

He had needed her and he couldn't have allowed himself to risk her life, to risk losing her. He still needed her, and that was why he had accepted back his position. It was why he had been gone for over a year, giving her the space and time to accept and re-adjust to this new reality.

And in his contorted mind, to be able to have and keep her, Red John had to die.

But the world was still a dangerous place, even if it was one monster down. The fact that people hadn't even noticed that she wasn't there just got him increasingly worried. She could be safe, or she could not be. And he couldn't risk losing her, not when he was that close to reaching the light at the end of the tunnel once again. Teresa Lisbon, his guiding light.

He couldn't help but being worried. He couldn't stop those feelings.

Jane paced in front of the elevator, red blooded, eyes wide open and the breath died in his throat. He had forgotten all about the case and he couldn't care less. He just stayed there, he kept pacing, waiting to see a glimpse of her dark hair, to smell the well-known trail of cinnamon and vanilla that was still imprinted in his mind even after a year apart.

He waited for Lisbon, and all around him people didn't seem to care about anything, themselves included. And the funny thing was, the same went for him. Because he cared about one thing and one thing only: her.

-o-o-o-o

"Where the hell were you?"

She had only just left the elevator when Jane attacked her. What sounded like a low voice to everyone else was more akin to a scream in her ears. And had had almost beena perfect day so far… trust Patrick Jane to ruin everything.

"It's not like you showing up that late! It's almost half past nine, I was worried something had happened to you!"

Lisbon had almost been on the verge of hissing nasty words at him, or grunting, at least, her annoyance at the situation. But obviously, Jane, being Jane, had to act all lovely and worried and handsome. Trust him to change the cards once they were already on the table…

"I think I may already have told you so, but many things can change in one year, Jane. I'm not the same person you met eleven years ago. Right now, I have a life." Her tone was low, but deep down in her eyes, hidden beneath her rage and her passion; he could see sadness, and a tiny bit of guilt. He knew she had already said so many things, but her eyes told him that there was still so much more left unspoken. And yet, he thought he already knew them all. After all, how many times had he broken her heart? It was too many times to actually count, most likely.

_It's because of you that I'm not that person any longer. I have a life, and maybe even someone. And guess what? It's not you. Because you had your chance, but you had to go and ruin everything. So, stop breathing on my neck, because you don't have that right any longer. _

He stared, and she stared back, lost in his eyes. She wondered what he was reading in her mind, in her soul. Was he aware of something? Did he know her secret? Had he somehow uncovered the truth?

But he couldn't know, not yet. She wasn't ready. She couldn't take him back into her life right now, not when she didn't know where he stood and not when she was still unsure if his heart was in the right place. After all, he had betrayed her once; there was no reason to believe that he couldn't do it again. And now she had too much to lose, it wasn't just her heart at stake anymore.

"What are you doing here, Jane? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, be somewhere else doing whatever you've been doing in the last year?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, at which he rolled his eyes. But he could feel something else as well. She had worried, he knew that, but at the same time, Lisbon had always been too proud for her own good. He didn't need to ask her if she had looked for him. He knew she didn't. If someone was supposed to take a first step, it had to be him. She had always needed it to be him.

She walked towards her office with her eyes closed, busy massaging the bridge of her nose. Jane was strolling behind her, like a faithful puppy in serious need of attention. The day had started out promising and she had hoped it would be a good, quiet day. But Jane had decided to start messing around with her life again, so there was no chance of that.

"I'm in a somewhere named _here, _doing whatever I used to do, aka checking on you, dear." He grinned and she grunted in an unladylike fashion, which resulted in yet another Jane trademarked smile. "My, my, feisty this morning, I see. Tell me, Lisbon, did your life keep you awake last night? You seem sleep deprived, and yet… I think it may be the good kind of exhaustion."

He emitted a guttural sound she wasn't sure what it was, and Lisbon turned to face him. There was no trace of humor in his expression. He looked enraged, hurt, and maybe even arrogant in his knowledge of her body, but exactly what was going through his mind, she couldn't say. She just knew that this Jane scared her more than the vengeance-driven madman she had met so many years before, and that she had to escape.

She turned, but before she could actually leave, Lisbon suddenly found herself trapped between Jane and her door. Her breasts were pressed against the cold glass and Jane was against her back. Instead of witnessing the desire – or maybe need - of the man for her, she could feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of her neck.

She gasped, hoping and praying that there were no witnesses. There had been enough voices about the two of them in the past, and she couldn't handle any more rumors right now. Now it was too complicated, and maybe, even too dangerous.

She tried to reach for the doorknob, but he was quicker than her, so, instead of meeting cold metal, her hand touched warm skin. Slender fingers interlaced with hers, and for an instant she felt protected and safe, but she knew that it was just an illusion. After all, she was talking about Patrick Jane, and Patrick Jane was the exact opposite of safe.

She fought back the tears, as she realized that this was how it could have been, how, in her fantasy, it was supposed to be. But reality was very different from her dreams and all because of him. Jane killed a man, and it was all because of her. She hadn't been there to take control of the situation, and she had never been enough to rid him of his obsession. She never thought that Jane was simply conning her, she was well aware of his love, but she also knew that she was second best. She was never going to be enough for him.

"There isn't a ring around your finger, Teresa," he whispered on her skin, so close to her neck she felt like he was nuzzling her. She half suspected he was going to kiss her too. "And I know it wasn't a man keeping you awake last night. So trust me on this, one day you'll be mine once again. I don't know when or how, but it will happen, Teresa." He said the words with possession and tenderness, and then he left an open mouth kiss where he had spoken, and set her free.

She immediately ran into her office, and threw the door in his face. Grinning, with his hands in his pockets, Jane strolled back to the place he was supposed to be - his chair, his desk. His couch was gone - probably because of her – and he kept asking himself if she got rid of her own as well. He was almost positive that she had: after all, it had been the place where they had made love for the first time. Lisbon was the first woman he had felt something for after his wife and daughter's murder. She was the only one he could love and that could love him back, because she was the only one who truly knew who he was. And yet, she still wanted him and she still needed him in her life, in spite of everything that he'd done.

But…

But, there were still so many other things he had to think about, he realized as he put his feet on the imitation wood of his desk. He had just _lied _to her. Maybe it was because he was getting old or maybe he wasn't as good as he used to be, or maybe it was just because Lisbon was concerned. The reason, though, didn't matter. He had lied, and not about a case, but about them. He couldn't be sure any longer. And he didn't know anything about that.

He knew she hadn't slept much the previous night, but he wasn't sure why. He knew that, despite everything, it wasn't about the case. She felt good – or as good as she could have at a crime scene - until she saw him there. He just knew she was somehow different, even if he couldn't say exactly how.

_Not a man, please, not another man… _He had told her he was going to seduce her, make her his once again, but he had been bluffing.

He wasn't sure she would willingly choose him over someone else. After all, he wasn't safe. He had never gone to school, he was an ex conman, he was dangerous, broken and dark. He lied like he had always done so since the day he was born. He used people like he had been done his whole life.

He was a murderer.

He panicked, and at the same time he felt the blood boiling in his veins as sinful images of a naked Lisbon filled his mind, thanks to his memory palace. But, they didn't turn him on, because there was no trace of their shared night of passion in his visions. He didn't see himself tangled with her body, but he kept seeing her with faceless strangers and… He knew what had happened that night in that hotel room, and his imagination had hunted him ever since. He knew of her and Mashburn, and Jane couldn't help but wonder if maybe the other man had returned to Teresa's life for good. Maybe she had succumbed to an empty glamour and an even emptier life. Maybe that was the reason of her happiness. Maybe that was why she had been awake last night. Maybe it was him. Or maybe, it was someone else.

Or maybe… he had to admit that he didn't have any idea about what was going with her. He wasn't even sure if it was about sex; for all he knew, maybe she had just talked with Tommy or Annie. Maybe she had just seen something cute on the way for work. Maybe she petted a puppy; she loved them, after all. Or maybe, there was another possibility, one he wasn't sure he dared to think about. He wasn't sure he was allowed to have such a hope, because maybe, she was genuinely happy that he was back.

"What she needs right now is time, not you pushing her." Jane's gaze left Elvis (at least, one thing that hadn't changed in the last year) and he turned to face Cho, who was apparently as emotionless as ever. He grinned to the poker face of the Korean. Yet another thing that didn't change: he had seen everything, probably noticing even the smallest detail, and kept his mouth shut until he just couldn't any longer. "She'll end up forgiving you anyway, like always."

"Yep, but not if you keep pushing her. She'll feel like you're trying to manipulate her, trying to push your way back into her life, and she'll push you away, especially since…" Rather interested, Jane caught the exchange between the coworkers, the glare Cho sent Rigsby, and the way Rigsby coughed to cover something up. The tall man looked rather embarrassed and apologetic, and Cho seemed to have abandoned his poker face, for his eyes were daggers, piercing Wayne's frame.

"Especially since, what?" he asked them, grinning, with a hint of his 'I'll eventually get my answer and you know it, so let's stop this game right now and save time' face. Rigsby blushed like he was a schoolgirl, embarrassed. People had always considered him a klutz, and now he knew why, and within reason…. And Jane just grinned satisfied. Every time Rigsby blushed, it was a step closer to knowing why Lisbon wasn't sleeping but was happier than he had ever seen her before.

"Well, she was hurt, you know, after you killed Red John. She felt betrayed, we all did. I mean, so, I'm just saying, that, you know, maybe, she could have, I don't know, issues. Maybe even doubts, so knowing Teresa… I mean, knowing Lisbon, she may not want to jump head first into, you know, whatever you are asking to jump head first into."

"Uhm, Interesting, you, Rigsby, called her Teresa. Tell me, why? And don't lie. You know you can't do it with me…" He was tapping on his chin, eyeing Rigsby like he was some kind of animal. It was all strategy to get his answers.

"Well, after you went away, I had issues…. Problems with my dad. He kept asking favors. And… I asked the boss for advice. We got closer. She helped me, and when daddy…. She helped me when my old man… she… comforted me. You know. That sort of thing."

Jane smiled, satisfied. Rigsby could have been good, could have improved, but every now and then, his old side surfaced, just like now. "You're a better liar than last time we saw each other, and yet, I don't believe you. This is just a part of the truth, and now I want to know what's going on. Everything, Rigsby, or I'll hypnotize you into telling me. Because I know you want to lift this weight from your shoulders, right? I can see it. So, tell me, Rigsby, what…"

"Enough!" It felt odd, unnatural and frankly, scary, hearing Cho screaming. But hearing him screaming and seeing him jump to his feet, hitting his desk with his fist, and staring at them with a death glare was even worse. "We've been gone through a rough few years. Craig almost killed three of us. Then you killed Carter. And then you disappeared for six months just to reappear with Lorelei Martins, and then, what? Lisbon is taken hostage and you kill Red John, this time for real. Grace left. You left. You think you're so smart? You're not! You may have spent your time making fun of us, but we aren't stupid. We aren't blind; we knew that something had happened between you and Lisbon. And how do you think she felt when everything went down? Who do you think was there for her? We were, Jane. That's why we are begging you to give her room to breathe. That's why she is Teresa for us. So, Jane, you're the mentalist. Tell me how she felt after you betrayed her. Do you know if? No, you don't. Because you don't see what you can't use to mock people. But you want to know something? I know how she felt. Rigsby knows how she felt. Sarah does. You weren't here. We were. We were here and we all went through a rough few months, without you."

"You may be impressive, Cho, but you know, it doesn't work on me. I'm not scared."

"I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just stating the facts. She may not survive another passage of the Jane hurricane."

The two men looked into each other's eyes, black into green. There was no need for words, not any longer.

"Uhm, guys? Evidence just released the letter…."

Jane lifted his eyebrows, looking from Cho to Rigsby, to the transparent evidence bag with a white sheet of paper in it. "Letter? What letter?"

He was having a bad vibe about this case, he didn't know exactly what it was, and he couldn't put his finger on it. That wasn't just a mere copycat, there was more. And he knew that when he would see the letter, everything would be clear. And it was a scary thought. A part of him knew that, once closed the case, she would send him away.

But he still needed time to get her back into his life.


	5. There's more than one truth in life

A/N: As aslways, thanks to that amazing beta-reader that it's Tracie, and to all my followers and reviewers, GUEST included :)

* * *

When he reached the brand new conference room, Lisbon was already there, pacing the room. She looked more tired than when she did when she walked in few hours before, more nervous, and more worried.

Her hands ran through her dark hair, and for the first time Jane noticed that she had changed her style a bit, shortening it. He hadn't see it in the dark of the previous night, on the crime scene, nor that same morning, when he had desperately tried to get her back in the blink of an eye, but Teresa had significantly cut her hair.

The new style was short, practical and soft waves caressed the back of her neck. He thought that he had to talk with her about it, and he smiled wistfully, because as much as he appreciated the soft, light curls, he couldn't say the same for the length. He had always loved when she wore it long, like when they first met. It had felt like heaven when he ran his fingers through it, while kissing, making love to her, or even just holding her close. Jane missed them being together, feeling like they were the only human beings left, with the sweet and comfortable silence hugging them in the darkness of her office.

Two days. He got to be with her for merely two days. It had been enough to get him addicted, to miss her like a starving soul once more. Despite what the team seemed to think, it had been a long year for him too. He didn't care what they thought. He had already given her time to adjust. He had given her twelve months to miss him, to understand what the difference was between when he was around and when he wasn't.

It had been one year, fifty-two weeks and three hundreds sixty-five days. Eight thousand seven hundred sixty hours. Over half a million of minutes had passed without even a glance of her, excepting in pictures. Cho thought they were the ones having it bad, and going through Hell. But he did as well; he had not only gone to Hell, but he had been trapped there for over a year.

And now he was finally returning to the land of the living, where he had all the intentions of staying: with them, his team, but mostly with her. Teresa had been his guiding light, his angel and saving grace, and she still was, despite wishing the contrary. She had been a permanent fixture in his life for over a decade, and the time away from her had been too much. There was nothing he could do to reclaim it, but he could make sure he didn't lose any more in the future.

"So, CSI released the letter into evidence…" she said, indicating with a nod of her head the letter in Rigsby's hands. She didn't sit at the table, she stood at crossed arms against a wall, and Jane didn't need to look into her green eyes to know she was worried. Her body language said more than enough.

"Johnson never mentioned that the killer was sending letters when we talked at the phone the other day…" Jane interrupted and he stopped her from continuing with her speech. He felt like he had to: the bad vibe was back: there was nothing magic about it, but it was one of his hunches, one he had learnt to follow through the years.

Or maybe, it was just because there was a letter involved, and a smiley face on a wall. After all, it only implied bad things for him. The only other time the two items were found together had been in Malibu, in his home. Images of his family, in life and death, of Red John, taunting him and finding his end, passed through his mind at light speed. He had believed it was finally over. Apparently, he was wrong.

Was the letter for him? Was the copycat, or the disciple, after Lisbon? Did they know what she meant to him? Was she in danger?

"What letter are we talking about?" he asked again, looking into her eyes. She gulped down a mouthful of saliva as their eyes met; the fire in his eyes told her it wasn't a simple question or a request. It was an order

He scared her just like he did whenever Red John was concerned, and his behavior just proved to her that he hadn't changed a bit. Jane was still the same dark, haunted and obsessed man he was before. Contrary to popular belief, time didn't heal all wounds; it had done nothing for Patrick Jane's ones.

He still stood on the opposite side of the room, staring directly at her with his fist closed on the cold plastic of the table. His couldn't stop looking at her. Jane had that crazy and cold look in his eyes again. He was scary, he was haunted, and he was a maniac. His voice confirmed to her what she already knew: he still was _that_ Jane.

She shivered under his scrutiny. It was just like in the past, all over again. She had gone back in time, to when they had met Sophie Miller. With that same calm and cold voice, so void of emotion, he had been completely honest with her for the first time. Jane shared his plan with her, how he intended to kill Red John, and make him suffer as much as he knew his family did. He made it clear that he was going to enjoy watching him bleed out, slowly and painfully, just like the killer supposedly deserved.

And now, Red John was no more. He had been killed by Jane with bullets instead of a dagger, but Jane hadn't changed. His wishes hadn't been answered, and all she could do was lower her eyes and nod in confirmation. She offered him three evidence bags, each one of them with a letter inside, and silently signaled Rigsby to do the same.

Jane sat at the table and tapped a finger on his lips. He read in silence, and then looked at her with an odd smile. She blushed, and yet she felt like reaching for him and shooting at him, because, even after so many years, she still remembered that look. Her mother used to look at her in the same way; it was the smile of a nice parent who was gently lecturing their misbehaving child.

He read each letter over and over again. They were all virtually the same; just a single detail was different. He grinned, and with each passing instant, his grin got wider. Still crossed arms, Lisbon huffed, annoyed. She didn't have any doubt that he was going to get it, but still, even after so long, there were things of him she could barely stand.

"Uhm. That's why you were sure it wasn't Red John or someone from his network. Tell me, Lisbon, how long have you known?"

"We started receiving letters after his fourth double homicide. Apparently, he didn't appreciate that the press assumed it was one of Red John's followers doing the killings, nor that we hadn't immediately made the connection right from the start."

"Oh, you didn't?" he asked, like an afterthought, as he re-read the letters once again. He wasn't looking at any of them; he was too engrossed in his work. As Lisbon studied him, she could see that the old Jane, the one she had teamed up with for so long, was back. But, for how long, she wasn't sure.

In another situation, she would have smiled, probably comforted by the familiarity of the whole situation, by the feeling of old times slowly returning. Somehow, it was calming and reassuring, and despite the grimy facts surrounding his return, there was a part of her who was glad that things were slowly returning back to normal. Although, there were a few things that couldn't be changed. But she wouldn't have wanted to change them anyway, even if she was given the chance.

"When we found the first couple around eight months ago, we assumed that some drug dealer was trying to cover their traces. The Donovan's were involved with the Santiago Cartel, and the crime scene was messier than any Red John case we had ever worked in the past. It just looked like a copycat who had done it all wrong." It was weird having Rigsby doing the talk, almost nonsensical. Even though he was a different and stronger man thanks to the changes of the past year, it was still Lisbon who was supposed to do the talking. Looking at her, Jane felt like she didn't know what she was supposed to be talking about, like she hadn't been on the case right from the start. But despite that, Jane stored the information in a small corner of his memory palace, in the wing destined to all things Lisbon. For once, he kept quiet. However, they both knew he was going to return to the topic, sooner or later. It was inevitable.

"Exactly four weeks later, we got another case. Everything was like the first crime scene, but there was no apparent connection to organized crime. And four weeks later, yet another couple, yet again clean. At that point, we didn't know what to think. We just assumed, like the press, that Red John got an admirer, or that one of his acolytes had been able to escape capture, turning into a bad copy of the original."

"Then, the next month, with the crime scene, you got a letter as well, and that was when it hit you."

"Yes," Cho deadpanned, with a single word. He was always economical, always himself on a case. At least, something was still familiar.

"He wanted you to know it was him, even without looking at crime scene pictures, I'd say he probably escalated every time, getting more and more angry because you weren't recognizing him. This is the reason he left you the letters. He knew that you were going to recognize the text."

_Greetings, old friend. It's been a while. I hope you are keeping well. I am thriving and happy. I have nine wives now and will soon begin courting number ten. Why can't you catch me? You must feel so powerless and stupid and sad… Oh, well…. All the best, Red John_

"He knows that, despite the signature, we know it's not Red John, and yet, he keeps bothering keeping up the charade." She shuddered, pouting a little. She could feel when a Jane hunch was coming, and even though a part of her was scared, she was thrilled and curious too.

"Do you have the original letter? The one I received, I mean…" he asked her, and before he could have actually ended the sentence, she was offering him another envelope, with another letter. He took it from her hands, and concentrated on it. He remembered the words at heart, despite the fact that it hadn't been a Red John murder, and his mind was filled with images of that particular case of so many years before. Her smile didn't want to let him leave.

"His first wife, he is referring to Mrs. Tannen." He paused, and looked at her. Both of them were disgusted, despite having been on the job for so long. "Wagner had been sentenced to death penalty. I thought he was already six feet under by now."

"The governor graced him few years back," she answered and her voice trembled. She couldn't meet his stare any longer. Jane didn't need to be himself to understand that she knew something, and that she was hiding it from him, desperately. The question was: what?

"Yeah, well, I think we can all say that Wagner found a way out, because this case has his signature all over it, from the number of victims, the gender, how he kills and then displays the bodies, the wrong smiley. And let's not talk about the letter. Only the five of us and Wagner knew what was written in the note I received.."

"Wagner escaped prison a couple of weeks before the first double homicide, taking advantage of a riot we believe he instigated in order to escape undisturbed."

"And yet, you didn't connect the two facts." He shook his head, and he still looked like a disappointed parent. She hated it and she hated him. Lisbon was good at her job and she didn't need him there. She didn't need him in her life at all.

"According to witnesses, he was on his way to South America. He was going to retreat into the forest and help the local population."

"Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon, weren't you the one telling me that witnesses weren't always reliable, and a case wasn't supposed to be built only on them?" She was starting to hate that smug expression. If he didn't stop, despite the fact a tiny part of her was probably still in love with him, she was going to hurt him, badly.

"Oh, well, you know, you weren't here to tell me this one can be trusted, and this one can't because I see how he moves his feet in that particular manner!"

"Not my fault, not my choice, Lisbon. If I remember correctly, you were the one who threw me out of the CBI…" _and your bed and your life,_ he'd like to add, but he didn't. It was better safe than sorry.

"You murdered a man!"

"I did it to save your life, and while on duty! Are you seriously telling me it's different from when you shoot at someone? Besides, I don't remember you having any troubles after I shot Hardy!"

"Just because Bertram and the AG said that, it doesn't make it true and you know it!" She would have liked to add that she did have issues with him shooting Hardy still, but remained quiet about that. She couldn't tell the truth, not with the team there. She and Jane were the only ones who knew it.

"Actually, my dear, I think it does."

"Don't you 'dear' me, Jane. You have no right. I swear that…."

"What? That you'll send me away again? You know you can't. Johnson asked me to join the investigation. Besides, you know there's a reason the good doctor escalated lately. He wants to play again and just like he used to. He knew that escalating was the only way to force the CBI to ask for my help." Their conversation was a dialogue for just two people, and it seemed that it was just them there. They might as well have been the only two on the planet once more.

"We don't need you to close cases! We did it before you joined us, and we did after you left!"

"Well, I don't doubt it. You've always been good at your job, and I think you learnt few tricks from me along the way. But, tell me, in all honesty, is your closed case rate as good as it was when I was around?"

"At least when we close a case, now, it gets closed in court as well! When you were around, you and your confessions were a nightmare for the DA!"

"Lisbon, I think you should simply admit that there's no fun in solving cases when there aren't any of my so called 'antics' involved…"

"You are so right, Jane. I can't believe that I've been relieved that my career and my job haven't been on the line once in the last year!"

"Lisbon, you knew how I was when you told Minelli you were going to take me in. You knew what was going to eventually happen, but you still signed on with me." His voice was low and tender, pure seduction. It was like a whisper on her skin even though she was on the other side of the room. She closed her eyes, shivering as memories hit her: that day in the crate, when she told him that she had always known that signing on with him would be the end of her career. That day, she had almost confessed him of her feelings. Like he had almost done many years later, when a bomb had been strapped around her waist and when he pretended to shoot her, and like they actually did many years later, one night inside her office. That night, they made love for the one and only time.

She wondered what he was talking about: the job, the sex, the love or even her broken heart. She wondered what he wanted. Did he want her body and just that, or was he interested in her soul as well?

She fought back the tears and she suppressed a moan. It was like it had happened just yesterday; she could remember every aspect, even how it felt. She remembered Patrick, the feeling of his uncertain, soft and careful touches, his tender kisses, his eyes dark with passion of the body and shining with the light of love. Their bodies melted into one as well as their souls did as well. While inside her, he moved slowly and carefully, and yet somehow, mercilessly. He held back his own release and fought against his climax. She surrounded him, matched his own movements, and begged him to let it go, for both their sakes.

She missed everything about him, even the sex, because watching him letting it go because and for her, hadn't been just hot. It had been sweet, breathtaking, an end of the world with ascension in Heaven kind of experience. It was beautiful, perfect and impossible to forget for more than one reason.

"I'll be in attic to study the case."

He left, and soon Cho and Rigsby followed, aware that there wasn't much they could do. The scene was probably going to be as clean as the previous ones, and there was no apparent connection between murderer and victims. They stopped at the door and looked at her, but didn't say a word. There was no need to; she knew what they were thinking and she knew they were right.

Jane was back and he still wanted her. The feeling was entirely mutual: she wanted, needed, and even craved him. But she couldn't have him, not yet, not since…

She had to face her own guilt, face it and be honest with him. Lisbon had to tell him everything, the whole truth. It was the least he deserved. Despite what he had done, he didn't deserve secrecy and lies. Eventually, she admitted defeat.

She had made a mistake, a huge one, and she wasn't talking about sharing a night of pleasure and love with her consultant. She could never call it a mistake and she would never regret it.

Lisbon knew she had done something wrong and she was going to eventually make it better. She just didn't know how and when yet. After all, she didn't even know if he would want her back after she revealed her secret. A part of her doubted it.

But the thought of losing him yet again, after having been reunited once more, was just too scary to contemplate. Because she feared that, this time, he would be gone forever.


	6. A thing of beauty and pain

Thanks to my beta Tromana, to Browneyesparker for the cover and everyone who favorited, subscribed and left a review, especially the two guests. And by the way, guest number two, you'll see here if you were right. as the majority of you will.

* * *

Jane and Johnson had been right. Two weeks, and nothing; he hadn't struck again.

Somehow, Wagner had returned to his original pace. Chances were he could diminish the number of murders he was committing even more. Equally, he could have just been waiting for the right moment to strike again, when they were least expecting him to. Jane, somehow, seemed to prefer option number one. He thought there was no reason to hurry at all.

And besides, they knew exactly who they were looking for. This new Red John, without a shadow of doubt, was (the former) Dr. Linus Wagner. They didn't need for him to admit to it - and in fact, he had never dared to say so – but everything he had done until that very moment was to make them understand it had always been him. The way he killed the first couple, the letter, he had wanted to make them understand he wasn't done yet. There was still time to play, and the ball was on his side of the field.

Running her hands through dark hair, she took a deep breath and hoped for the better. Somehow, though, the dark circles under her eyes were meant to show that she had no faith whatsoever left. Only fear.

She knew and understood that Wagner had wanted things how they used to be when he had been convicted years prior. He escalated his killings only because he felt it was the only way to get back Jane into his arms, where the killer thought he belonged. What she couldn't get was why he wasn't escalating again. After all, Van Pelt was still back home, where she meant to stay, _and_ she had worked the case back then. Didn't he care about the redhead's presence?

But maybe…

Van Pelt was no Jane. And Jane used to be, and still was, Wagner's favorite plaything. He was the one Wagner felt the closest to, the one the killer thought he had some kind of morbid connection with. Still, even after years, his words were burned into her mind, and she repeated them over and over again…

_I wrote about Mr. Jane here…_

_Mr. Jane is very clever, but I don't think he realizes the kind of feelings his trickery can provoke. I've felt that rage, I've thought of various, unpleasant things I would do to him, and right now someone is acting on thoughts like those. There are things so much worse than killing a man…. _

Here was yet another killer obsessed with Jane. She smiled wanly. Well, the guy had always been full of himself. At least now, he had some sort of justification for that. Part of the world did revolve around him. It especially matter that it was hers and a number of criminals, however.

Two weeks. Two weeks and she hadn't told him yet. Two weeks of evil glances from Wayne, of Kimball looking at her like he was trying to order her to do it already and get a grip on her life, and Johnson, she didn't even want to start with the woman. She was exactly like one expected: a southern belle to be, a blonde Scarlett O'Hara, but with CIA training. Johnson wanted to fix everyone and everything. Johnson, who found them cute, and Lisbon had never tolerated when people dared to call them 'cute'. She was Teresa Lisbon, the tough-as-nails senior agent. She didn't do cute. Even if it was her boss saying so.

She rested her head on her desk, a brand new habit of hers, and she grunted out of discomfort. She was exhausted because of sleep deprivation and she hadn't been ready to come back on the job. But, it wasn't like she had any other choice. It was her case, so she had to keep on investigating. And now, she was stuck there. She couldn't leave. It was partially because of Jane, and the questions and rumors that it would trigger, but more importantly, because it was her job.

She had even considered not coming back at all.

Her temporary leave was, on paper, a year-long sabbatical. And that was what she wanted the CBI higher ups to believe. But her team, and even Johnson, knew the truth. She was buying herself time, she was looking for options.

Jane didn't know it yet, though, but she knew it wasn't a secret she could keep from him forever. She had to tell him everything and was going to, eventually. It had always been her intention. But when she told him, everything was going to end.

Cho would say something about hurricane Jane hitting all over again.

There was no way that he could forgive her for what she had done. She knew exactly why he would feel that way because she understood all too well. Hell, she couldn't even forgive herself for it that easily.

"According to the papers, you testified on behalf of one Linus Wagner, granting him clemency. " She jerked, suddenly, eyes wide open and the breath caught in her throat. Here he was, at the door of his office, looking as handsome as always.

She felt horrible in comparison, with her pale face, shadows under her eyes, and unkempt hair. Her back was killing her and she always felt like her figure wasn't good enough, one way or another.

She rolled her shoulders. Once, Jane told her he had turned her into a good actress. She hoped it was still true, and that it could work on him as well. And that he had been honest with her, for a change.

"I worked the case. They asked my opinion," she answered matter-of-factly. She acted as if it were unimportant, when it was anything but. Nothing had ever been unimportant when Jane was concerned.

"Funny thing is, I dealt with him more than you did. I knew him better, and I'm a better judge of character. Why ask you and not me?" he grinned as he sat in front of her, on the other side of the desk. His feet were on the table and he was entirely relaxed. His methodology of crime fighting hadn't changed, nor had his attitude towards murder. Even the light blue teacup was in his hands, just like it had been a year before.

She took a deep breath to calm her down, and felt his presence invade her. The smell of tea filled her nostrils, and that was enough to give her a serious case of déjà vu. For a moment she went back in time, like the last twelve months never happened. They were back to being Lisbon and Jane pre 'end of the world as they knew it'.

End of the world as they knew it meaning Jane murdering Red John, not what had happened between them. She could never regret them, not for an instant and that was why she was scared. Because part of her thought that he could and would regret it very soon.

"We couldn't reach you. What were we supposed to do? Wait for you to take your sweet time and come back here? We kept closing cases, and we kept sending people to jail, even when you were gone."

"Well, you had my phone number, and since my cell was mostly on, you would be able to trace me if you had tried. And besides, while I was taking my sweet time to come back here, using your words, my dear Lisbon," he hissed a little annoyed, but mostly hurt by the fact that Lisbon dared to put all the blame on him. Leaving her had never been an option for him, but somebody else made the decision for him. _She_ did. "I worked as a consultant for the police all over the state on a freelance basis. The whole population of California knew where I was and how to find me."

She shivered as he talked, every word feeling like a kick while she was down. She didn't blame him, though; she had always blamed herself. Yes, he had killed Red John, but she had always known that was his intention. And still, she had allowed him to break her heart.

After placing the cup on her desk, he cast his gaze around her office as she scrutinized him. It was the first time he dared to set foot into the well-known room, the first time he felt almost positive she wasn't going to kick him out. He didn't know what she was holding back from him yet, but he knew that Lisbon still felt something for him, and whatever it was, he was going to use it to come back into her life.

His eyes reached a certain corner of the room, and for the first time he noticed that 'their' couch was gone. It hadn't been replaced by that red monstrosity she used to have, but something brand new. It was a couch he had never touched, sat on or slept on. Mostly, though, he didn't say it out loud, he thought that it was a couch where they had never made love.

He turned to look at her, smiling. He licked his lips, and had a devious light in his eyes. He told her exactly what he thought they were supposed to do about the new couch and what they were supposed to do _on _that couch. She blushed, and quickly avoided his gaze. His smile got wider and wider, and, she assumed for the first time in a long time, it was real.

It wouldn't have happened any other way. He knew that they were slowly coming back to being their old selves. His Lisbon was slowly accepting that he was back in her life and he wasn't going to leave any time. He hoped that she was doing her best to meet him halfway despite there being something she didn't felt comfortable sharing with him yet

But he couldn't even care about that.

All he cared about was getting Teresa back as soon possible - in his life, his arms, and his bed. Or her couch would do for now. He was happy to take baby steps in the meantime.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire…. You know the real reason they asked you to testify, and it's not about the fact that he was a philanthropist. Tell me, what was it really about? Tell me, quick! And be honest, or I'll find out you lied to me!"

She looked at the floor, defeated. He always knew everything, despite not being informed about the facts. For an instant, she dared to wonder if he even knew about her dirty little secret.

"I told you, Jane, there's nothing to say. He was a philanthropist who killed to keep getting money to help people out. Never before had he considered murder as an amusement, and playing with the cops even funnier."

"Yeah, well, looks like you weren't so right about him, you and all those crazy shrinks. I'd dare to say he slightly changed his mind about his definition of 'amusement', especially when murder is concerned."

"Like you already said, I'm not such a good judge of character. But then, who can compare to the great Patrick Jane?"

"Liar; I know you hated him." She didn't register his movements until he was right at her side; sometimes, he moved too fast, like a kid on a sugar high. He was so close his words were like a whisper on her skin and it felt like he'd electrified her whole body. The blood red female inside her suddenly awoke with a passion. She needed him, body and soul. Nobody but Patrick Jane would satisfy the hunger she felt.

"Even now, you still hate him for what he did to me when we first met. You knew how far I could fall during a Red John case, and the fact that he was just a copycat didn't make it easier. He dared to prey upon my past, reopening old wounds and rubbing salt in them." His voice was sad and low and the warmth of his breath lingered on her skin. Their eyes met, and the only word she found to describe him was desperate. "You hated him because you were my friend, and you hate him now because there's still a part of you that loves me."

She knew it was time to say it, to confess all her secrets. His whispered confession of love, his plea in another chance, did the trick. She couldn't resist it, him. There was no going back, not anymore. She closed her eyes and she edged closer to him. Jane mimicked her every moment instinctively. Their lips were already touching tentatively like they had never kissed before, or they had to remember how it was supposed to be done. They tasted each other, with lips, tongues and hands. When they had to stop abruptly, shaking and panting, their lips were swollen and their faces bright red.

They had been caught by someone who had just stormed into her office, unannounced. It was a Hispanic woman and she looked scared and desperate. In her arms was a sobbing newborn baby, a little boy, he figured.

"Teresa, my Corazon, I'm so sorry! I know you don't want us here, but I didn't know who I was supposed to leave Tommy with!" she cried, tears cascading from her dark eyes.

Jane, taken aback when he heard the familiar name, wondered if she was a nurse. He knew that Tommy had been into drugs when he was younger, but he had been almost positive that Annie's birth had been the catalyst of a drastic change of attitude towards life. Of course, falling back into old habits wasn't unusual for former addicts, only 53% remained clean. He knew that bad things could happen to addicts: overdoses, poor cuts, drugs mixed with poison, incidents while they were high…. And now that he thought about it, a few days ago, he did overhear Lisbon saying to Rigsby something about Tommy running a fever. Why would she have worried about a grown up man running a fever if there weren't other health issues involved?

Yes, he thought, his heart clenching at the thought of Teresa, alone and having to deal with the outcome of her brother's actions. Then there was Annie, who had already behaved wiser than her years when he'd first met her. Now, she was probably an adult before it was her time to be one.

"Miriam had an accident on her way back from school, and my poor Clara is panicking! Oscar is away for work and he'll not make it before a couple of days, and I just can't leave her on her own like that!" Lisbon appeared to forget about the office, about him and was immediately drawn to the woman. She had always wanted to fix people, and he loved that about her. He watched as she embraced the mysterious woman; it almost looked as if Lisbon was sharing in her pain.

The baby was sandwiched between them. He had stopped sobbing any longer and almost immediately, seemed happy and cheerful. He stared up at Teresa in awe and fascination and Jane could easily relate.

Jane smiled at the sight, his heart full, overwhelmed at the memory of another child, a baby girl, his beloved Charlotte. The boy didn't look more than few months old, and he guessed that the Hispanic woman was around 50 to 55, so couldn't be his biological mother. The child didn't bear a passing resemblance to the woman, so he probably couldn't even be her grandson. In fact, he looked more like….

He froze when he saw the scene for what it was. Teresa was holding the baby in her arms, against her heart, as she remembered for the first time he was still there. He saw fear, regret, pain, and shame. Mostly shame, actually.

In his eyes, there was anger, hurt and even hate. He was Patrick Jane, after all. He couldn't believe she had thought he was a stupid idiot. And worse, she believed that she could lie to him. Genetics, though, didn't lie. He took almost completely after Lisbon, with a little something in the mix belonging to someone else.

"And I'm the one who's been labeled as the betrayer, the liar," he laughed, but there was no humor in his tone.

"Patrick, please, it's not how it looks like…" she plead, and tried to reach for him with tears in her eyes. He wasn't sure he could even believe they were true.

"_Don't_!" he screamed. He looked reminiscent of how he would appear whenever Red John was involved. That was how angry he was. Suddenly, she tried to move away, to shield her baby with her own body; he was scaring her. He saw it, and was suddenly disgusted with his behavior. Despite how furious he was with her, he would never hurt her or that tiny little creature and she didn't seem to understand that. "Don't call me like that. Not now. Please," he added, more like an afterthought.

"I wanted to tell you, I swear, but I didn't know how, and then…."

"The only reason you didn't tell me, Lisbon, was because you didn't want to. Was it because I'm such a terrible person? Or is there anything else you are scared of? Tell me, Lisbon." He hissed her name, like it was poison. "Were you scared that, one day, he would have chosen his father over you? Everyone abandoned you; there was no reason to think that your son was going to be any different. You know what I think? You left me out because you know that, even with my baggage, I'm still ten times better than you. You're just a workaholic, unable to have relationships outside the job. Isn't it true that all the men you had sex with were men you met through the job?"

"You don't think that," she cried, not fighting back the tears. She held her baby more tightly. He was her lifeline, and she was so scared of losing everything and everyone. She had already lost Patrick and she wasn't going to lose her baby as well.

"Trust me, I do. I think you are just a little dirty girl who managed to get pregnant with the first idiot who was so desperate to have an orgasm that he forgot to put on a condom."

"You told me you loved me…" she begged, her voice low, and desperate. She knew she had hurt him badly, but she didn't know what she was supposed to believe any longer. Was he saying those words just to hurt her or was Jane finally being completely honest with her?

"And you believe everything a guy tells you to get you to open your legs for him? If you do, you aren't half as smart as I thought you were." He kept going on, vulgar, venomous, and not caring about her feelings. As far as he was concerned, she deserved it and so much more. "But that's the point, right? You are smart. What was the plan, huh? Did you want to trap me with the baby? Were you after love or just my money? But it backfired, didn't it? You got scared, scared that I would give you nothing. That I would keep the baby for myself and you kept me in the dark. _Everybody_ kept me in the dark…"

"Patrick, please…" she cried, desperate, still trying to get closer to him, but he didn't let her.

Tentatively, he reached out for the baby, but pulled back immediately. He couldn't touch the baby yet. Not when she was around and not when he was so mad.

"I can't believe you did this to me after everything I've been through. How… how could have you been so selfish? How could you keep him from me? You… why didn't you let me at least give him my own name? How could you have been so… so…." he paused, clenching his fists at his sides. "I thought I knew you, but maybe I was wrong," he whispered to the floor.

He moved away, ready to leave the room, but at the doorframe he stopped and turned. His eyes focused on the baby, and only later did he dare to meet the mother's eyes, full of regret and sadness. "Tell Johnson to call me if something happens. I think I may have to talk with my lawyer."

She barely resisted crying before him as she heard the words. It felt like her worst nightmare coming true; someone was taking away her baby from her.

He ran away from the CBI, and sped away in his baby blue Citroen DS. He ran through red lights, he broke every speed limit. He didn't even see the road; his eyes were filled with the image of Teresa with her son, _their_ son. He had dark ringlets like his mother and light green eyes like his father. It was a beautiful sight, but it had been tainted by pain, anger and sadness, his and Teresa's.

Six hours later, he suddenly found himself kneeling on the ground before two tombstones with just a name and a surname. Jane didn't know how he had arrived there, when or exactly why. But looking at them, what was left of his wife and daughter, he just knew.

He wanted his son. He wanted Teresa. He just didn't know how get them any longer.


	7. bright hope, small pain

A/N: Thanks a lot for teh reviews, especially to guests, and whoever favorited me and/or the story. I'm well aware last chapter wasn't what you were expecting, but I honestly think that Jane would never be too...nice, would soemthing like that happen to him. So, humor me a little, pretty please. :)

* * *

He drove back to Sacramento in a similar manner to the way he had driven to the cemetery. Jane headed straight to a familiar place, her apartment. There was no rush and no rage, but he felt empty, and he didn't even know why. Was it because of Lisbon's sort of betrayal? Or was it because he had been betraying both the women he had loved in his life, both his families, past and present?

He told Lisbon that there was no way she could fix him, and that she couldn't stop him so many times. Now he had just gone and hurt her that way. He had broken all the promises he had made her. He allowed Red John and his people to almost kill her – kill _them – _and he had the nerve to make her feel guilty. Besides, it was not like she was completely wrong. He did vanish, and had never bothered to let her know his whereabouts. How could she know that he wanted her to find him?

A seemingly endless, almost apocalyptic rain fell on the street of Sacramento, and he found himself sitting in the deluge right before her door. The fabric of his clothes stuck to his skin. The cold was a welcoming feeling and he felt alive again. For the first time, it made him remember that he was human, despite everything.

His tears mixed with the raindrops, and until he heard his own sob he wasn't even aware of the fact that he was crying. Jane didn't even know why. Was he still thinking about Charlotte and Angela? Was it because of Teresa and little Tommy? He couldn't answer that, or maybe, he simply didn't want to. The possibilities scared him.

Jane had always worn a mask, and showed whatever side he preferred to the world. He was a loyal husband and a devoted father, and yet he had never taken his family into proper consideration. He pretended to have powers he wanted to use for the sake of his fellow humans, and yet he did that only out of greed. Even when he joined the CBI, he said that he wanted to redeem himself, when all he wanted was revenge.

And he got his revenge. And Lisbon, she had always known it, like she had always known him.

Lisbon was probably the last and now, only, person to really understand him. She had always known of his masks, and had always been able to see through them. Even Jane himself had forgotten what it felt like being without the façade. He had lived with it for so long, that now, he was lost. He didn't know who he was any longer. Could he still define himself a devoted husband after Lorelei, but mostly, after Lisbon? Did loving Tommy mean forgetting about Charlotte, or shattering her memory, and tainting it in a certain way?

He shook his head and covered his face with his own hands. Then he realized that he wasn't feeling the rain any longer, just tears of desperation and regrets. They were for a past life and a life that could have been. Maybe, it could still be, but he didn't know yet.

Something warm and dry touched his shoulders. Through teary eyes, he saw Lisbon, smiling sadly at him through long lashes. She was covering them with an old umbrella and had wrapped an ugly blanket on his shoulders. She offered him her hand in silence, and he accepted, holding it like for dear life. He hoped she would know everything with just a simple gesture.

He had made a mistake. Actually, he made a lot of mistakes, and thinking that giving her space and time to forgive him was going to solve their problems was one of them. If not, it was the biggest. She would have forgiven him eventually for Red John, and deep down, he knew it. Lisbon was also aware of the fact that her life was on the line, and that was one of the reasons he had done what he'd done. He wasn't so sure that she could forget how he hadn't fought for her love, for their life, though.

Jane smiled sadly, and she turned teary as well, but like always, Teresa Lisbon didn't want to show any weakness. She pulled herself together and resisted the temptation to cup his face. But, he could see in her eyes just how tempted she was to do so.

"C'mon, Jane, let's get inside. I should have some of Tommy's clothes. He is a bit taller than you, but I think your suit should be presentable in the morning." His heart constricted a little hearing her calling him by surname. In the last few weeks they had been together - before he did one of the most stupid things of his life – he had been mostly Patrick. The shift had occurred before they'd even slept together. That was probably because they could both feel something was changing between them. Even now, she sometimes called him Patrick. But Jane… hearing his name, in such a defeated and tired manner, it broke his heart. It made him wonder if he really had any chance at all of getting her – them - back.

He didn't say a word, merely nodded and followed her. In another time (or maybe another life), he would have preceded her, would have showed off his abilities by walking straight to the bathroom, but not now. Now, he was a defeated man; defeated by himself.

He waited for her outside her spare bedroom and then followed her into the bathroom. He appeared to be in a trance as he watched her prepare the bath, and he smiled slightly. Mostly, he was making fun of himself. For a second, he had wondered if she was taking into consideration the idea of taking said bath with him, but obviously she wasn't. That had been another life, one he wasn't sure he could reclaim. Besides, she now had a baby to look after. She couldn't indulge in empty glamour any longer, whether she needed it or not.

She stood, and suddenly, she became interested in her feet. Despite everything, Jane found himself smiling at the absurdity of the situation. Lisbon had seen him wet, drunk, beaten, and she had even seen him naked. Now, she behaved like he had two heads or was suddenly going to eat her alive. Just being in the same room as him, fully clothed, made her uncomfortable. Just because she knew that in a matter of minutes, he was going to be fully naked.

"So…. the tea… I think I'll get it ready while you'll take your bath. You need to… get warm. I'd hate for Johnson to think that you caught pneumonia because of… me." She blushed, and he couldn't help but grin while passing his fingers through his unruly curls. At least they were getting back some semblance of normality, of what it once used to be. Maybe they could have it all back, one day. He knew the past couldn't be forgotten. But, they had both made mistakes, and in due time, he was sure they could overcome everything that had gotten between them. They had already done it once. They could do it again.

He lowered himself in the tub, and the warmth and her smell - cinnamon and orange and all things baby – drove him into a short, and yet peaceful, slumber.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The water was freezing when he woke up, and when he got out to get dressed, it was even worse. He didn't know how long he had been asleep for; all he knew was that his clothes weren't there any longer. It was yet another thing Lisbon had decided to take care of.

He got dressed as quickly as possible, and then decided to go looking for her. After all, she had promised him tea, and she was the only one capable of doing a good tea just like he liked it. But, on his way to the kitchen, something stole his attention. A small light brightened a room, and the door was left ajar.

He knew that this was her bedroom. Jane had already been there once, few years prior, to try to get a confession out of Carmen – and he could guess what she was doing there, and whom she was with. He wondered if he had the right to go and see her there, how she would react, but he didn't have any choice. His body reacted autonomously, and he opened the door, revealing a scene that made him cry and laugh at the same time. Inside a simple and yet cute crib, was the baby he had once seen, without knowing who he was. Little Tommy Lisbon, all dark curls and (closed) green eyes, was fast asleep, busy sucking his thumb and breathing peacefully.

He sat on the bed, and just stared at the child in awe; he was almost tempted to touch him, to skim over the pale and soft skin, but he was afraid. Just like with Charlotte, he feared he would break the fragile and delicate creature, or, in a best case scenario, disturb his sleep and wake him up. Now he was fast asleep, but who knew if he was always like that? Teresa was always tired, and maybe it was because of the child… or maybe it was his own fault, for coming back in her life with a thunder after more than a year.

"He sleeps a lot. I think he took after his father." He could feel the warmth in her voice, and it really made him feel like crying. It was a simple thing, but for him, it was special. It meant he was finally getting her back, even if it was just one piece at time. That had to be enough, for now.

_Don't you know that Batman survives on mini-sleep sessions_? He almost told her, but then decided not to. It was a bit too soon for the jokes. It was time to be serious, or maybe to shut up. "You're not breastfeeding" he suddenly said, more to stop the silence from becoming deafening than anything else. She simply turned towards him, looking at him quizzically. "I've never seen stains of milk on your shirts, and your breasts, they aren't…. well… they are slightly bigger, but not big enough to indicate breastfeeding…." he continued, indicating to her breasts, the point where his eyes were firmly focused.

"Jane…." she muttered, half scandalized but still blushing nevertheless. It felt so good to be back, and he couldn't believe he had been away for so long. He should have never done such a thing, now he knew. Like he knew that he should have never said those words earlier.

They started to talk at the same time, and before more chaos could follow, she took the lead. "Listen, Jane, I didn't have any intention of lying to you. I just didn't want for you to think that I was trying to trap you with the excuse of the baby."

"No, it's okay. I should never have said those things to you. I wasn't even thinking them. It's just that….." he paused, and stared at his hands, his ring finger was now bare. "It felt like…. when he took Charlotte away from me. But… it's not your fault. I should have returned sooner, but I thought you still needed time. I didn't want to force your hand." Or maybe, he thought but didn't add that he was just too proud or too scared to take that first step. "I would have returned on my own, eventually," he added.

She didn't say a word. He knew she wasn't already completely okay with him being back, and mostly, she didn't know how to behave around him. Now that he knew about the baby, that applied even more so. She wasn't even sure what she was supposed to say, because she just didn't know. Yes, Cho and Rigsby (and even Sarah and Johnson) tried to talk her into looking for Jane, not needing her words or a blood work to confirm paternity. However, she had never really taken into consideration the idea of eventually looking for him to talk about Tommy. She had been too mad with him. She still was, even if with each day the pain got a little bit smaller, and hope was brighter than ever. If she hadn't been at the hospital to say hello to Fran and her family, she would have said it had been all a plan to get the two of them back together or at least, on speaking terms.

"What time is it?" he suddenly asked, changing topic completely. That was something she was used to; Jane had always been particular in his own special way.

"It's almost four o'clock. You can stay here if you want; I don't think I could sleep anyway. Knowing that that creep is somewhere out there looking for another victim…." She shook her head, and Jane took a deep breath; he knew and understood that feeling all too well. Yes, when it had been about Red John his obsession had been at least ten times stronger, dictated by his personal involvement, but he could see the pain Lisbon was going through. Only, she wasn't lost and crazy like he used to be. Instead, she was sad, and felt defeated, even though it wasn't over yet.

"You won't find it creepy that I'll watch him sleeping?" he marveled, but then he grinned and met her gaze. "No, because you do the same all the time. Sometimes it's because you are worried for his wellbeing, sometimes because you wonder if you'll be a good mother in the long run and sometimes because you are just astonished that we made him, this tiny creature, who grew in your womb…"

"I hate you," she mumbled and left the room. Jane smiled, and went closer to the crib. Finally, he found the courage to touch that soft dark hair. Tears of happiness slid down his cheeks, and soon enough the baby stirred. He was only just beginning to wake, but Jane decided to go looking for Lisbon while cuddling his child.

His child. It was such a strange concept, and yet, while he nuzzled the scented skin of newborn, he felt it in his bones. That baby was his. Tommy was his and Lisbon's son, even if he still had her name. "Daddy's here and he isn't leaving for a second time," he told him. Jane knew that Tommy's giggling sounds weren't of agreement, but he still felt like saying the words out loud. Maybe, he thought, they weren't for the little boy to listen to, but for his mother and himself.

That same mother was looking at them from the kitchen. She was barely suppressing her sobs, and eaten alive by regrets. What she was witnessing was the most beautiful scene a mother could hope to be part of, and yet, her pride had almost cost her son his father. Yes, her little family was a bit dysfunctional at the moment, but she knew there was room for improvement. If Jane hadn't changed his mind and that was what he wanted to have with her, with them…

Engrossed in their little bubble of happiness, they didn't notice the figure outside the house, taking picture of them and of their baby.

_The game, Mr. Jane, is on._


	8. Red shadows

A/N. I want to thanks a lot who is keeping adding this story to subscriptions and to favorites. It means the world to me, really. Many thanks also to the 3 guests (2 guests and akpsdk)who left a review for last chapter. I would only say one thing before starting: many of you pointed that Jane has blue eyes. The green eyes thing is given by the fact that a couple of years ago Simon Baker himself, in an interview, pointed out that people always adressed his blue eeys, despite that they are green-ish :)

* * *

Wagner – or at least, they thought Wagner was the killer, unless the evidence had been faked as some believed – kept killing. In less than a month, two more couples found their death at his hands. He also was escalating, yet again. Every crime was more gruesome, cruel, and bloodier than the ones before.

The morning they found Lily Granger and her husband, they almost didn't manage to face the scene. It was probably the cruelest killing to date, because Lily was pregnant, and due just in few weeks. Wagner had eviscerated her, and, according to the coroner, he had extracted the baby while he was still alive, only to scarify him on the dinner table, on a silver plate.

The man was no longer obsessed with Jane; the philanthropist who killed to keep having money in order to help society's forgotten no longer existed. Now, he was just a psychopath, a killer like many others.

But not like Red John. Wagner could say whatever he liked, but he had made mistakes more than once. He went to jail for his first murder. Lisbon and Jane knew that he was going to make another mistake. Sooner or later, something would cost him his newfound freedom and the recent interest in eviscerating young couples.

They were only scared about how long it would take for him to fall. Red John made the mistake of getting too close to Jane after having been around for almost fifteen years. Thinking that Wagner could do the same was a scary thought and something that made Teresa feel like crying. Lily and Peter Granger's baby was a boy, just like hers. He would have been just a few months younger than her son. She couldn't stop thinking about the fact that everything had been ripped away from him; he'd had no chances, no happiness. His parents didn't even get the chance to give him a name.

Obviously, Lisbon didn't allow emotions to show up in the field. She had to remain professional and therefore, she didn't like appearing weak during a case. It didn't matter what she really felt. She gave orders like always, _Cho, question the neighbors. Rigsby, let's see if the family knew of any threat. Ron, I want you to check security and traffic cams. Maybe one caught the killer…_

As soon as she entered in her office, though, she fell on her chair, and covered her face with her hands. She refused to cry, refused to sob. It wasn't like her; she wasn't weak. She had to remain strong; she had no choice. It all came back to the usual topic: _Jane. _

She had allowed herself one moment of weakness, and that was what happened. Everything was a mess. Of course, she didn't regret it; Tommy was the most important thing in her life. Her moment of weakness with Jane had been what had resulted in her son's birth, but still…

She had been in love with Jane back then. From the moment he kissed her for the first time, she had believed that they were inevitable. She still thought it, so… she just wondered what if. What if they had waited? Would she still have her son? Would they have been normal, instead of a dysfunctional little family?

Because she had to face it: since Jane had learnt of Tommy's existence, he had been a_ father. _Or maybe, even a _dad. _

Yes, she thought allowing herself a little smile. It was the first one of the day at the office; Patrick Jane was definitely a dad for Tommy. She wasn't even remotely surprised by it. He was dark and intense, that was true. Yet, she had always been sure, that despite all of his layers, despite all his faults, and despite being a conman, he had been a very good parent for Charlotte. That was why she had defended him when he had lost his memory and the team kept saying that it had been losing his beloved ones that had triggered the transformation, and allowed him to reach his fullest potential. She had always been sure that he had been a good man; he had to be to love his family so much.

And, just like that, the smile vanished.

She didn't like the direction her thoughts were taking her. She didn't have any reason to be jealous of Charlotte and Angela. Charlotte wasn't Tommy, and she wasn't Angela. She and Jane didn't even have the same relationship he did with his late wife. Jane wasn't going to think of Tommy as some sort of replacement, and he wasn't going to love his son any less than he did his daughter. He was simply adding, sharing what he could give.

And yet, when she was alone, or when she looked at Jane staring at a picture of their baby or stealing a glance at him, she felt like he was feeling guilty. She could read it on his face. Despite all his love, there was a part of Jane that still hurt, and was probably going to suffer for the rest of his life. He was well aware that, had he not lost his first family, had he not made the mistake of insulting Red John, he would have never met Lisbon and Tommy would never have been in the world.

That had been one of the reasons she had tried her best to keep her feelings for him at bay for so long in the past. She knew where Jane came from, and when he confessed to her of his time at Sophie's side as one of her patients, it just made her resolve to keep whatever there was going to be between them at bay stronger.

Besides, she often wondered the same things, now more than ever.

She looked at her son, and would ask herself what if she hadn't been menaced by Red John. Would she still have slept with Jane? And had Charlotte and Angela never died, would Jane still be with them, or would their paths would have eventually crossed?

She really didn't care right now. She couldn't live on what ifs and buts any longer; she didn't have such a luxury any longer. Besides, she didn't want to think about it right now. She had more important things to do. She had her son to focus on and that was more important. Living on what ifs was pointless; there was nothing she could do to change reality.

Not that she wanted to. As dysfunctional as it was, it looked like her little family worked just fine, at least in some respects.

….

She and Jane were working just fine. On the job, they were back to what they used to be before they had had sex. He made messes on every case he worked on, he broke rules, they bickered like children (or, like an old woman once assumed, like a married couple) and she paid the price of his idiotic plans with a sea of paperwork. And like always, she just had to forgive and forget once he gave her a cup of coffee, something sweet to eat or an origami animal (or all of them) as a peace offering.

At the office, she could handle it. Yes, he embarrassed her, and he made her blush, but she was still able to remember that between those walls she was supposed to be Agent Lisbon. She used to give him a piece of her mind, she snorted, walked out of him or something like that. Really, as embarrassing as it was, she really could handle it. She was fine.

The problem was at home.

Jane behaved like a gentleman, and a great father. He was practically perfect, and it just made everything so much harder. She was meant to remember that he had broken her heart, why she was supposed to hurt him back and never allow him close to her heart again… He wasn't even doing that on purpose, she could see it. He was only being himself, the man she had met over a decade before. This was how he used to be before Red John's shadow cast its spell upon him in the darkest hours. This was the man she had fallen in love with, so long ago.

_Hush-a-bye don't you cry,  
Go to sleep-y, little baby.  
When you wake you shall have  
All the pretty little horses.  
Blacks and bays, dapple grays,  
Coach and six white horses.  
Hush-a-bye don't you cry,  
Go to sleep-y, little baby._

Every night, from the doorframe of her room, Lisbon looked at the perfect picture of her consultant holding his son – their son- in his arms, singing the baby to sleep with a lullaby. Each night, she cried a little, trying her best to find an excuse, and every time, she failed miserably. Even after a year apart, Jane could still read her like a book. But unlike beforehand, he couldn't hold a serious conversation with her; he just didn't talk. He smiled at her, almost shyly, as if to tell her it was okay and he felt the same.

"Looks like he didn't want to let you go," she told him with a smirk. Tonight, Jane had had a few troubles getting his son to release his iron grip on him. The baby seemed aware of how long he had been without a father in his life, and every night he took Jane's hand and played with the man's thumb, releasing it only once fully asleep. This time, however, he didn't want to let it go.

Her breath died in her throat at the sight, she had to admit. She wasn't like Van Pelt, a firm believer of the existence of paranormal abilities, but she knew that children were said to feel things in a way that adults weren't able to understand any longer. Was it a bad omen, a sign that Jane wanted to leave them once again, or did her child want his father to stay there as much as she wanted him to, even if she claimed the opposite?

Jane's smile gave her the answer she craved with all her heart. His silent tears told her he had no intentions of leaving any time soon, if ever. And although they weren't back together yet, Jane had made clear from day one, ever before knowing of Tommy, that being together was his final objective.

Maybe, she told herself as she offered him a cup of tea in her living room, it was time to talk. It was a conversation they should have had a long while ago.

"It never ceases to amaze me that you know how to make my tea perfectly," he told her, smiling. It wasn't a big deal, and although it was the truth, Jane still knew Lisbon well enough to be sure that it was what she needed to hear to make her blush of that lovely shade of red.

She did blush, but then bit her lips, willing herself to change the subject. That wasn't what she had wanted to talk with him about. She wasn't ready yet. And besides, there was another person, way more important than her to think of. "Tommy should start daycare in a couple of weeks."

He looked away. He wasn't going to fight her, but he had to admit that it hurt to know that Teresa preferred to leave their child in a daycare's hands rather than in his. Still, he knew he had to respect her decision. She was the mother, and the only reason he hadn't been a father, and didn't feel capable of truly calling himself one yet, was because of his own mistakes. "It's okay, Lisbon. I think the nights are enough for now. We're both working very hard anyway and the Wagner case isn't…"

"There are some papers you need to sign first…. if you want, I mean, but I guess you'll want to be able to…. To take him, every now and then."

He smiled, and she blushed yet again. His hand found hers, and he was on the verge of tears. In that instant, he knew that it was possible for them to have a future together, because Teresa had just trusted him with their son. The same woman who had been scared that he would run away or fight her in a court of justice for custody had just told him that he could be with his son whenever he wanted to be.

"There's also the issue of paternity. I mean, I don't know what you were planning, but I seemed to understand you wanted to recognize Tommy… so I guess that it would be easier to, you know, do it now, while he is still so little. I'd hate for children to make fun of him because from one day to the next he changed his surname. Besides, he doesn't even need to know that we…. There's no need to tell him that you… of course, it's up to you. I mean, it was my fault, so…"

"We'll think of something when the time comes, I'm sure of it. We'll find a way to explain what happened between us, but that no matter what, we loved him since the moment we saw our little treasure." He looked at their interlaced hands, sad all of a sudden. "We'll also have to explain him why Mom and Dad have never been together…" he added, more like an afterthought.

"I don't think that there will be any need…." she said, biting her lips. She didn't know if he had heard her either, because she had just whispered the words, very embarrassed.

"What…?" He looked at her. His face was blank, but Lisbon knew that it had to do more with the fact that he didn't trust his senses and couldn't allow himself to believe in this, than to the lack of feelings.

She stood, and, somewhat embarrassed, she offered him her hand. He accepted it without thinking twice, and they slowly walked upstairs, the silence broke only by their breathing and their hearts, seemingly louder in the semi-darkness then their own steps.

She stopped for a second in front of her own room, checking her baby's breathing, making sure that the baby monitor was on and turning on the nightlight, just in case. Jane looked at her with the sweetest expression from the door, arms crossed, thoughtful. He should have been there from the first moment, he thought, and he had lost so much, all because of his pride and his stubbornness.

He should have been there when Teresa first suspected a pregnancy, when she took the test, the first sonogram, and when she gave birth… all those little, but huge, moments, weren't going to come back, and he had missed them all. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Teresa was allowing him back in her life, was offering her heart to him, and he knew that if he was going to break her once again, there would be no turning back, for all of them. Himself, Teresa, and even Tommy.

He shook his head, smiling, when she approached him, and took her wrist before she could leave. She got lost in his eyes, and when Jane leaned over her, she didn't defend herself. He buried his hands in her hair, and kissed every inch of skin the jersey left exposed. Slowly, he dared to search for her treasure, those parts or her body she kept hidden under her conservative and by the book clothing.

"Jane…." she moaned his name, and that was enough. He took her in his arms, and practically ran to the guestroom. He threw Teresa on the bed, making her gasp, and immediately started to rid himself of his clothes.

There was nothing shy about it, nothing sweet or slow. He wanted her, and she wanted him, it was that simple. They had wanted each other for so long, and denied their own love for even longer. Now, she was taking him back in her home, in her life. She wanted Jane as her partner in life, and she wanted for him to be the father of their son.

"No foreplay?" she asked him, giggling, between kisses, once he was fully naked and lost in each other, busy touching and making up for the lost time. He simply shook his head, and resumed his exploration, his veneration.

He lifted the jersey, leaving her in the nude. Just the light from the streetlamps illuminated her pale skin. She felt his gaze on her, and instinctually, she covered her abdomen with her own arms. He kissed her groin, smiling a little sadly, shaking his head. Gently, he forced her to remove her arms, and revealed a long, horizontal, pink line, a scar marking her skin. It was a scar where her womb was, where their son grew inside of her.

He had been right, then, in his first assumption. She had had a cesarean, and a pretty intense one, if she hadn't been allowed to breastfeed afterward.

"Jane…." she whimpered. She was on the verge of crying, he could hear it, feel it in his bones even. He simply shook his head once again, and started kissing her abdomen. She didn't need to be ashamed of her body. He loved her for who she was, and that made everything about her more beautiful in his eyes. And that scar, it was what had brought their child in the world. Did she really think he could find it ugly? _Silly, silly woman,_ he thought, as he kissed his way to her lips.

He kissed her on the mouth, and when their tongues tangled, once again their bodies joined, dancing the oldest dance of the world, they both cried. Jane was grateful for this second chance and ashamed for not having been there for all that had happened to his love and Tommy. Lisbon was mad with herself for having denied themselves for so long, and happy that he hadn't given up on them. And even if they had just started that long path, and they were all aware of the obstacles they were going to face in the future, all they could think of was that they wanted to make it.

And Jane, caressing her scar, he promised himself that he would soon fill that womb once again with another life they created together. He would give a sister to Tommy and yes, to Charlotte too, and he would be there, right from the start. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes he had done with Angela and Charlotte, nor the ones with Teresa and Tommy. He was going to be the man that Teresa deserved at her side.

He didn't hear the click of a camera capturing their shared moment of intimacy and bliss and happiness.


	9. Let the bloody games end

I think I should already have thanked individually whoever posted a registered review, but in case I didn't: thanks to you all, guest included. I also wants to thank, from the deepness of my heart, Tromana, amazing writer and great artist, who provided addictional art for this story and the cover- you'll have the link for the whole thing posted on my livejournal page as soon as I'll be done posting the whole thing here. Tromana is also one of the reasons this story is how it is, as she is also my beta-reader and my unofficial cheerleader. Thanks sweetie!

* * *

Sounds from the baby monitor awoke Lisbon from her slumber, and she immediately jumped, ready to rescue her baby from whatever was happening to him. But when she saw what was happening inside the room, Jane holding his son and singing that lullaby while feeding him, she quickly retreated. She hoped that Jane hadn't seen her: the man needed that moment alone with his son.

She returned to the guestroom and let her body succumb to a sudden fatigue. There was a part of her that wondered if she could even sleep properly at night; she was so scared for her baby. It wasn't just his needs or having an ordinary life, but the knowledge that the world was filled with real bogeymen.

Sometimes, she just dreaded her nightmares.

After Red John had made it clear that he didn't mind killing her, with Hardy, she had started getting them. She had visions of a man under a hood, of knives on her throat, and of Jane finding her butchered body underneath a bloody smiley. After the killer's departure, things calmed down a bit, but, one day, she had started seeing Jane taking his own life; he kept saying that, with her out of his life, he had nothing left.

And then, she had discovered she was expecting Tommy.

Once again, she started having nightmare about Red John. She dreamt of walking into the same room as Jane did so many years before. She imagined finding her lover's remains, and the killer holding her baby, taking it as his own to get revenge on his nemesis. Lisbon knew it was a stupid dream, that she didn't have anything to be scared about, but still, she couldn't help it. She had lived in Jane's shadow for too long, he had marked her beyond comprehension. It was something she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life, whether she wanted to or not.

"C'mon, Mom, we know you're awake!" The sudden light blinded her. She covered her eyes and meowed something, smiling stupidly when she felt a familiar weight on her chest, and a tiny hand holding her hair in his palm. She awoke, nuzzling her son's skin first, and then allowing Jane's lips to tenderly touch her own in a slow, languid melting.

"Would I set a bad example for our son if I were to ask you to call in sick today and spend the whole day with me in bed?" he wondered, deepening the kisses and allowing his tongue to trace the contours of her whole body, leaving a wet trail on her neck, shoulder and abdomen. He had spent so long being unable to touch her that he couldn't do without it, and he was completely oblivious to the outside world. He didn't seem to notice his baby, looking at them and clapping his tiny hands, nor the sound of her cellphone.

"Ugh. Please, don't answer…" he begged her, but she could see his smile and the resigned way he was staring at her, pouting: he already knew her answer. It was probably because he knew her. She grinned, and picked up her cellphone, flipping it open so quickly Jane assumed it had become second nature for her. It probably was, though, and it had always been. Lisbon, after all, was always there when someone needed her; it didn't matter if it was the team or the case. After so many years, the nickname given to her in San Francisco still suited her perfectly.

"Hey Cho, what's up?" she asked, sounding as natural as ever. He grinned, patting himself mentally on the back, for he had transformed her into the best actress ever. He remembered when he told her that, since she was a crappy liar, she was a good cop. Now, the way she had shifted from 'ready to succumb to sensorial ecstasy' to role-model cop mode showed that the first part of the statement become a lie, but the second one had never been truer. With Tommy still clapping his hands, he decided she had to pay for how quickly she had forgotten about his advances. Embracing her from behind, he moved her hair out of the way, and started kissing her way down her neck, his hands busy sensually caressing every inch of skin available.

He grinned when he noticed she was holding her breath, and he instantly knew her eyes were tightly shut. Teresa didn't say a word, something which made him extremely proud of his abilities in the bedroom department, and was merely humming something like an 'uhm?' to her second in command every now and then. She was leaning into his touch, and Jane was close to taking her phone away, telling Cho something not very polite, thus revealing their renovated scandalous affair. Then, they could just make out, like a couple of horny teenagers for the rest of the day.

Teresa, though, suddenly froze. "Are you sure?" she asked. And then, she hummed something under her teeth, listening carefully to what the man on the other side of the phone was saying. "Okay, we're coming." She stood, and she went to the bathroom, without saying a word. Jane kept staring at her back, tempted to lower the tension with a bit of his humor. In the end, he resisted, and just went to her. While Lisbon was looking at herself in the mirror, he embraced her from behind yet again, but this time chastely, and the only place he kissed her was her hair.

"Another month has passed," he just said, and she nodded. They both now knew why Cho had called her on her day off. Wagner had left a reminder of their failures, in the form of the butchered bodies of another poor couple. Two more individuals had died; people who were only guilty of being in love, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or who knew what. The monster's MO was as much of a mystery as it had been on day one.

"I don't know. Cho seemed weird at the phone. Maybe he has doubts. Or, I don't know, but it felt like he didn't want for me to freak out. Anyway, he said that I had to see for myself, so…"

"Next time we'll get him," he told her, yet again kissing her hair. She didn't know if she was supposed to cry and hug him, or to turn and slap him angrily on the face. Those exact words were the ones she had shared with him plenty of times in the past, after every Red John case. He had never believed her. Was she supposed to believe him? Were his words worthier than her own? She didn't know. And she wasn't even sure she wanted to answer herself.

"Take a shower and join me at the crime scene when you are done. I'll leave a note on the fridge with the address," she said, trying to leave the room as quickly as possible. Jane was quicker than her though, and he grabbed her for an elbow. He wasn't using enough strength to hurt her, but his touch was determined, and in his eyes, she could see desperation and fear.

Fear that they were back to the day he had killed Red John.

"Teresa, are we alright?" he asked in a voice so low she could barely hear him. Suddenly, she felt overwhelmed by everything, and she simply let it go. She found comfort between his arms, and cried in his naked chest, her arms wrapped tightly around him. For a moment, she thought about reassuring him, explaining why she wasn't questioning him or them, and telling him that they were alright. But then, she decided to simply tell him what she thought, how she really felt.

Because, she realized a little triumphantly, she wasn't transparent, or translucent, to him any longer.

"I'm so tired. I've thought it was over, and yet… we got rid of a serial killer just to end up with another one. And every time I look at a crime scene, I remember what you had to go through for so long. It's not right! You…_we _deserve some peace!"

He smiled against her skin, nuzzling her neck. He remained silent, because every time Teresa talked to him like that, and showed him how much she cared, how much she put him before herself, he was speechless. It had always been like that: it was one of the reasons he hadn't told her about his own feelings for so long. Yes, there was Red John and her security at stake, but he had always had problems coming to terms with how much she loved him and how unworthy of said love he was. Because, how could a fool be the love of a princess, a charlatan the heart's desire of a saint?

She sniffed, and parted, albeit reluctantly. "Hey, listen, I'm going to ring Fran. Her apartment is on the way to the crime scene, and if she isn't busy, I'll leave Tommy with her, okay? If we're lucky she'll be on full grandma mode, and she'll keep him overnight…." she suggested, looking at him with intent, like a sexy predator coming to life.

"Are you suggesting that I could get lucky because you want me to behave or because you pity me and you want to lift my mood?" he said, strangely blushing at the double entendre.

She laughed genuinely because it was so rare to see him like this. "Both," she admitted, kissing him sweetly and quickly on the lips. "Besides, if we're alone, we can be a little more… creative, so to speak." She laughed, and went to retrieve her son, without saying goodbye to her man.

Behind her back, she could hear Jane grunting. Now that she had installed all those sinful images in his mind, she knew that he wouldn't be able to get rid of them. That would have been enough to keep him quiet all day long, lost in memories and fantasies with just one thing in common: her presence.

Less than half an hour later, she knew why she thought Cho was trying to protect her, because he was, just in his own way.

She scanned the room and it felt like everything was the same, and yet, different. Jane's motel room from his old days in Sacramento was just like she remembered it. She hadn't been there many times over the years –when he lived there, they weren't an 'us' – but the vibe was still the same she got back then. It was the same feeling she got in every room he used to live in on the road before he decided to settle down with her.

The rooms were all the same - poor, with just the essentials, dirty, cheap, and small – but this one was different. This room had been a kind of home for Patrick Jane, and this was where the game, years before, had changed. That was the same room where Madeline Hightower approached him, the place where they went when he had told her "I'm a bit home. Can you take me drunk?" It was the place where he had gone into his fugue state, when he had asked her to sleep with him and she had almost succumbed.

This place held memories for the both of them, good and bad and everything in between. It was as much of a home as he had allowed himself to have during those long years on the hunt for his nemesis and for vengeance. It was his home, and Wagner had just violated it, tainting the memories with this everlasting darkness, and a new notion: somehow, they were next.

He stared at the wall, at the trademark insignia drawn in scarlet blood, and he fought back tears of rage. He felt like hitting something, hurting someone. Lisbon felt him tense, remembering all too well how he used to feel whenever Red John was in the picture. Now, "his" serial killer was no more, but there was still a resemblance. Red John had shattered Jane's little family, but yet again, someone was playing with them in what seemed to be turning into a deadly game of shadows.

"Cho, do we have an ID on the victims?" she asked him, looking at the petite brunette. She was in her late thirties, completely naked and obscenely lying on the bed with her legs wide open. Her body was a canvass of cuts and crimson blood; a horror show coming true, with her glassy eyes staring at them. Teresa felt like she was looking at a mirror from some kind of freak house. Of course, the woman wasn't her twin, she couldn't have been just like her, but she was just like a distorted reflection, almost the same but not there yet.

But they didn't doubt it wasn't the case, that it wasn't a message. If they did… the fact that her 'partner' was in his early to mid-forties, with blond curled hair and was built similarly to Jane should have erased them all.

"He is escalating again. He has never been that wild, brutal and ferocious before. This is… pure hate," Jane said, staring at the two dead bodies, still interlaced in an unnatural post-coital posture even in death. And as he said so, Wagner's words from before came back to her mind. There were many ways to break and hurt a person, he'd said. And that Jane, Jane had asked for it with his behavior. "A serial killer's first and last victims are always personal. He is… shifting MO because he is telling us that he is getting closer to his real objective."

She gulped down a mouthful of saliva. They were his real objective and they had been all along. Wagner was obsessed with Jane. Wagner hated Jane. Wagner had manipulated Jane into returning to them. Not for the first time, Lisbon asked herself how much of the man they really knew, how much _he _knew. Was he aware that Tommy was Jane's? Was her child in danger, too?

"Boss, we got an ID from SAC PD" She turned, and met Rigsby halfway. He offered her a bunch of photographs, and she took them all, looking at each one. "They were both persons of interest in two ongoing investigations. Looks like ten days ago, at different sites, the bodies of Natalia Richardson, 43, and Thomas Ginger, 41, were found. There was no apparent connection, different neighborhood, social class, a rich housewife and a grocery store employee. But the guy working the Richardson case saw similarities with the inflicted wounds and compared them. Result: same kind of weapon."

"Let me guess: a butcher's knife" Jane interrupted, almost snorting.

"Yeah. They assumed that Ginger's wife, Lydia Alcott, 39, and Matthew Richardson, 44, could be responsible. Apparently, he liked sleeping around, and he had an office close to where Lydia had worked until last September. Detective Newman put a BOLO out on them, he decided that they were lovers and wanted to escape somewhere with Richardson's money. Only…"

"Only, all of Richardson's money is still where it should be, and we know it because Richardson was a bad, bad guy and our FBI friends were looking for him!"

She almost rolled her eyes. She was about to tell him to stop playing the psychic and the showman, but decided to let him indulge for a short while for a change. God only knew if they didn't need it.

"Yeah, well, yes, but it's not that. When the results from the crime scene came back, it came out that there was about twelve liters of blood soaking their mattresses…"

"The average woman possesses around five liters of blood, while the man seven. Twelve liters of blood would indicate that on both crime scenes two people had died around the same time."

"Yep, the blood types match. Also, the coroner says that they had probably been on ice until a few hours ago. It would explain why, after almost two weeks, they are still perfectly fine."

"Boss, CSU found something hidden behind the headboard. Apparently it's for you two." She took the polaroid-sized scraps of papers, and read the note over and over again, with Jane by her side. Cho was still stoic, even if she could see the tiniest hint of fear for the incoming danger.

_Greetings old friend, it's been a while. I hope you are keeping well. I am thriving and happy. I wonder why you can't catch me. You must feel so powerless and stupid and sad… oh, well…I just wanted to tell you that I'll soon stop courting my last wife, and I'll have my second child with her. I think you may be familiar with them, old friend. All the best._

She looked at the pictures in her hands and she found herself staring not at a strange reflection, but at herself. She appeared lost in a sensual embrace, late at night in her bed, naked, with Jane buried within her body. There was no shame or embarrassment for what the team had seen – they were not stupid, after all - but merely disgust. Not because of the action, they couldn't, not when she loved him as much as she did, but because that monster had taken away something so sacred from them. He had violated the sanctity of her home. It was the only place where she still felt safe, where she could be Teresa and not Agent Lisbon.

Jane took another picture from her hands, one she hadn't had time to look at, and somehow, it was even worse. It wasn't a picture about sex between two people in love; it was something even worse. At her side, Jane, with eyes wide open, shook his head, as their eyes fell on the little family. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the father held the infant in his arms and the mother at his back, her hands on his shoulders and her chin rested on his hair. They were a perfectly normal and happy family of three.

Only, it was their normal and happy family of three.

She collapsed on the cold pavement, and Jane immediately took her in his arms. He fell onto his knees, his head buried in her hair. "Cho, send someone to Francisca Ramirez's place. I think Wagner will hurt Teresa's baby. I think… he wants to take away another child of mine." He whispered the last part of the sentence. He didn't care about the small gasp of surprise of somebody in the room there with them , people who were apparently unaware of the paternity of the child.

He shamelessly and desperately cried with her and he prayed that it wasn't too late, as Rigsby ran outside.


	10. The tiger and the lambs

A/N: Thanks alot to the guest reviewers from last chapter. You've been amazing. penultimate chapter is here...see you in a couple of days with the epilogue!

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They reached Fran's house in a matter of minutes, but it still felt too long to them. Teresa, sat in the back of the car, had never said so many Hail Mary in her whole life, and Jane, the same arrogant jackass he had always been, never let it go of her hand. They both hoped that, for once, he had gotten it wrong.

He hoped that the God that Teresa worshipped did exist, and that He was going to protect their little, innocent baby, who was so young that he hadn't seen how big the world actually was. He hoped that there was an afterlife and that the spirits were indeed among them. Because, if they were, then he could hope that Angela and Charlotte would look after Tommy.

But, he felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown, and for every argument, he found something else to convince himself that everything was doomed. For, if there was a God, why had he allowed his wife and child to pay for a mistake _he_ had made? And, as far as for the spirits, even if they were there, how could he know that they didn't hate him because he had eventually moved on?

He shook his head. Thinking like that wasn't going to do himself or Teresa any good. Whatever was going to happen, whatever was already happening, he had to clear his head. He needed to focus if he wanted to have even half a chance of beating Wagner at his own game.

"Dispatch says that Mr. Ramirez called 911 while we were on the crime scene. The lights at her place went out, and she thought that someone had done it, said she had a bad feeling about it. In the middle of the call, though, the line went dead," Rigsby said, listening to the phone, his eyes glued on the road ahead, just like Cho, who was driving furiously through the rush hour traffic. "Black and white are already on the scene"

"The Ginger and Richardson murder in my old motel wasn't just a message. It was a trap. He needed to get both of us out of the way to get to Tommy."

Jane squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He was mad at himself and not for the first time, guilt got the better of him. Love had blinded him. But then again, he knew that, deep down in his heart, he couldn't really feel guilty. Not when everything that had happened had made sure that he was right there in that moment. Still, part of him was somehow ashamed, that to have this family he had to lose the one he had when he had been another man. It was something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life. The darkness wasn't going to disappear; it was doomed to knock on his door every now and then. But, Teresa and Tommy were going to be there to bring him back and to turn the lights back on. He had to believe it, if he wanted to stay sane enough to do whatever he was supposed to do now.

"Patrick…" Teresa whispered his name, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. She was desperate and her green eyes were teary. There was a resolve he had already seen in the past, but with a different degree. Teresa was a feral lioness when she had fought for her family in the past, for her team. But this time, it was much more serious. Nobody could touch her blood and get away with it. She was like an avenging goddess, a phoenix of pure fire. Fire made of flesh.

He nodded, and she went on. He couldn't stop looking at her; her eyes almost calling him, like he was prisoner of a spell. And in a certain way, he was. "Patrick, whatever happens… promise that you'll not go down that road again." She paused, and stared at him with intensity, making sure he understood her point. "I could survive months apart, but not another trial. I'd die. Promise me that I'll not have to tell our son that his father is a murderer. Promise that, whatever happens, you won't leave me alone to deal with the aftermath."

She gripped his hands in her owns, never breaking eye contact. Jane just nodded, and then buried his head in the crock of her neck, silently sobbing like he hadn't done in a long time. He could count on his fingers just how many times he had cried in the last ten years. And it had always been because of his family: because of Charlotte and Angela, because of Thomas and Teresa.

"Boss, Johnson's already here." They barely listened to Cho's words; the car hadn't stopped yet and they were already running towards the front door. The perimeter was surrounded by yellow tape and uniforms, with Johnson right there on the front line.

"Teresa, don't," the blonde said as she grabbed Teresa by the shoulders, preventing her from moving further on. Johnson, Jane noticed for the first time, was taller than Teresa, maybe even bigger than life itself. She embraced the younger cop and completely engulfed her with her body and her presence. In Teresa's eyes there was resolve and desperation, in Johnson, he could only see certainty and determination, a rare strength. Her eyes were screaming of promises, _we'll bring him back, we'll get that monster, he'll pay, _and in that moment, Jane was certain that the voices were indeed true.

There was more to Brenda Leigh Johnson than met the eye.

"Agent Cho, join the SWAT team on the other side of the road and let me know of any progress." She paused for a second, taking a deep breath as she saw Cho doing as she ordered him to. "SWAT's not clear to shoot yet. Wagner had found a blind spot inside the home with no visual. Tactical switched to infrared, but we can't take any risks."

"So, it's up to him, right? My son and friend's life are in the hands of a psychopath!" she yelled, but Jane could hear the resignation in her tone. She was a mother, the greatest protector of them all, and yet there was nothing she could do. Like too many other times in her life, she was a mere witness. The scene belonged to others.

"He'll never hurt Tommy, he just…. He can't. It's not who he is," Jane tried to comfort her, but he wasn't so sure. Not about the fact that it could work, he was aware that there was no chance at all. He just wondered if he was talking to her or himself.

"Jane," she switched to his surname, spat it out like it was venom from her lips. He froze. It had been too long since he had been just Jane to her. It felt wrong, like he was getting a taste of the incoming end. "You didn't have to talk with him. I did! I know what he said. That man… he may have killed at a certain point because he wanted to keep saving the lives of innocent children just like _our_ son, but trust me. He hates you enough to forget all about the person he used to be."

Hearing her words, what she said weeks before suddenly returned to his mind. It was what Wagner had told her when he had been taken in a few years before. It explained how his mind, words and actions were his own ruin, how people hated him for those, and wished to hurt him because of his actions. Cold shivers ran down his spine, he turned pale, and he could feel his own heart slowing down. He didn't know if it was a panic attack, but the lack of breathing surely felt like that. Because he knew that whatever was going on, it was his fault. Wagner hated him because he had shown the world the man behind the mask, and shown them the truth about the good doctor. Now, years later, he was finally consumed by his revenge. And just like he had told Teresa a long time before, there were worse thing to do to a man than killing him.

_If you want to hurt a man, you don't kill him. You hurt his family, _someone had once told him. He had experienced it first hand, more than once, with Red John, both with Angela and Charlotte and years later with the team and Teresa. And now, here he was again. With his family, his own blood, risking his own life because of his actions, because he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut.

Maybe Teresa had always been right, and this was his karma because he had looked for vengeance for too long. Maybe this was his punishment because he was a bad man who had dared to be happy after having killed his family. Maybe he didn't deserve Teresa and Tommy. Maybe he didn't deserve any happiness at all, maybe, maybe…

"Mr. Jane, whatever you are thinking, stop it, right now." He shivered yet again, but for a whole different reason. Johnson's stern voice had brought him back from his reverie, and her resolve and determination, they did something to him. For the first time, he experienced what he assumed people believed to be an out of body experience. He saw himself with new eyes, like from the outside looking in. His gaze went to Teresa to his left; had he always been so closed off, dark and crazy whenever Red John was concerned? If he had been, he could finally understand why she had always felt the need to be there for him, to keep him safe from the world and himself.

It didn't explain why she had kept up with him, though. '_He closes cases' _wasn't a good excuse, not for so long. If she loved him, _since_ she loved him despite everything he had been through, well, that was another reason why she should have kept her distance. And it was just another reason to love her as much as he could since she hadn't.

He interlaced their fingers, and she held onto him for dear life, like her world depended on him and that single gesture. She had been his anchor, his light, for a long time, and suddenly, their roles had been reversed. He had always needed her to be Patrick Jane and not a monster. Now, she needed him to remember that she was Teresa, Tommy's mum, and she had to think about her beautiful baby son. She had begged him not to do anything foolish because she couldn't handle telling her baby that his father was a murderer, but the opposite was also true.

They both needed to keep their heads clear.

"Teresa, Mr. Jane, this isn't the first time I have dealt with a situation like this. If you want, I could try to talk with him instead of waiting for the FBI to arrive." In another situation, Jane would have smiled. He could see that Johnson had barely resisted spitting out the words and rolling her eyes at the mention of the federal agency. Then, what he had heard was true. She really had been in an unhappy relationship - marriage, from the way she kept skimming over the bare skin of her left ring finger without thinking - with a federal agent_. Apparently, Van Pelt hadn't been the only one with troubles with the feds in the romance department_….

Then, realization hit him. He was right: Wagner had done it all because of him: Wagner wanted him.

"No. Let me talk with him. I'll try to buy time, to get some room for SWAT to operate. But let _me_ in there. It's_ me_ he wants." He told them, begging with his words and his eyes. Teresa's heart clenched painfully at the sight. _This_, she thought, _was how he must have looked like when Sophie Miller found him._

"I'm not sure it's a good idea. Kidnappers rarely keep their promises once they get what they want. We can't be sure that he won't kill the child and Mrs. Ramirez once you're face to face with him." Not for the first time, Jane was glad for Johnson's presence. They needed someone a little less involved, a little less emotional, and someone with a clear head for all of this. And this woman, CIA negotiator and interrogator, turned closer for the police, was exactly what they needed. Still, he thought he was right and that he could pull that off without harming anyone. The only exception was Wagner, of course. "Landline's gone, but if you happen to know if Mrs. Ramirez had a mobile number I could always try to…"

"No. No, absolutely not," Jane stopped her, before she could even end the sentence. "Ma'am, with all due respect, but Wagner had orchestrated all of this to get me here, right from the first murder. If we don't give him what he wants, aka _me_, or we pretend like we don't know who he is after, he could try to hurt one or both hostages just to force my hand."

"Or, we could give him exactly what he wants, and we could end up with three more cadavers. Correct me if I'm wrong, but according to Agent Lisbon, Wagner once said something about '_other ways of hurting and destroying a man'. _Dr. Wagner had studied you, Mr. Jane, and forgive me if I'm being harsh," she told him, clearly not genuinely sorry for the words she was about to deliver. "But after your wife and daughter died, you were devastated. People told me you were as good as dead. Now, imagine if you were to see it, happening right before your eyes, your son being killed by someone you angered because of something you've done or said. What better revenge than this, for the good doctor?"

"Ma'am, trust me. I know that man. He'd never hurt my child. He is an innocent, like the ones Dr. Linus Wagner used to cure, save and protect."

"Mr. Jane, in case you haven't noticed, Wagner killed innocent people, just like the ones he used to cure, save and protect, just to get to you, using your words. So, forgive if I'm not willing to trust your instinct right now."

"Ma'am, let me at least try. Maybe I can't stop him on my own, I know it. He'll never fall for my tricks twice. But I can try to buy time, enough to get SWAT and snipers in position. Please," he begged yet again. Johnson closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths and pinched the bridge of her nose. Finally, she opened her eyes again, after the longest instant of their lives.

"You have quite the reputation, Mr. Jane. I hope you can live up to it," she told him, almost resigned. Jane simply nodded, and smiled sadly, just to say, without words, all he needed to say: _thank you. _"According to infrared, they are in a room on the back of the house. Go down the corridor and you can't miss it. It's some kind of open space with a lot of windows, but he has positioned himself in a blind corner. See what you can do."

He nodded again, but he didn't smile, nor did he answer her.

It was Jane's turn to take a deep breath, and he did so as he slowly approached the door. On his back, with each steps he took, he could feel the burning, lethal gazes of the snipers, pointing their caliber 50 weapons in his general direction. The only thought that comforted him was, knowing that, among those hawk eyes, there was Cho too, looking over him like some kind of fully-armed guardian angel.

He turned the doorknob, trying not to cry, not to think about another door and another room with another child of his, so many years before. He had to remember to stay there, in the moment. But it was hard, when all he could do was thinking about the similarities between what had happened back then and what was happening in that moment. All he could do now was pray to a God that he didn't believe in that the outcome would be different.

"I'm coming with you." He felt small hands touching him, and he heard a sad and low voice at his back. He didn't turn to look at Teresa's face, nor did he speak or try to talk her out of this. She had as many rights as him to be there, to walk through that door. All he could do now was hope that Wagner was still the man they had met a long time before. Because if he wasn't, Jane wasn't sure he would be able to survive another broken heart. Nor did he believe that he would be able to mend Teresa's desperate soul if they were to find the mutilated body of their infant son.

They entered, and did as Johnson had told them, followed the path that they already knew at heart despite having heard of it only once, and never having done it before. As predicted, he was sitting on a chair, surrounded by candles, like some horror gothic, evil prince of the darkness. Linus Wagner was shaking his head in their general direction, absent-mindedly playing with a gun, pointed in direction of a crib where Tommy laid still. It was with a huge relief that they saw the small, steady movements of his chest; a clear indication that their boy was alive, for now, at least.

_The Glock 9-millimeter; the safety's in the trigger. How stupid is that? I mean, it's kind of like not having a safety at all._

Jane gulped down a mouthful of saliva as he stared at the grinning man right before his eyes. Teresa's hands never let go of his shoulders and it was a relief to feel her presence. The years hadn't been nice with the good doctor. He knew that Wagner – a vain and self-centered man - was well aware of this and he knew a good part of the fault was the time spent in jail.

It was the same jail where Patrick Jane had sent him so many years before.

"Hello old friend. It's good to see you again. It's been a long time, isn't it?" he said, with the familiarity of a real old friend. And yet, Jane knew that it was going to hurt him, to make him remember all his failures. So many years before, a letter sent to him by this very man started with those words, just like that. It was a letter used to throw him off his game, to make them believe that it was another monster that they were after.

Wagner kept grinning darkly shaking his head as if to reprimand them. His expression was made even darker by the soft and alluring, yet dangerous, candlelight dancing on his skin. He started to talk again, his voice was low, almost sweet, but they could recognize a serpent when they saw one. And he most certainly was a venomous serpent in disguise.

"I see you brought me my last wife. You are very kind, Patrick. Definitely not the man I pictured you to be for so many years, secluded in a small cell, with inmates doing… unspeakable things to me!" He suddenly stood, screaming, and the gun pointed in direction of the child. In his eyes, they could see passion and rage and even madness. And that was what probably terrorized them the most. With the old doctor, they could have talked and Jane had been positive that he could have handled him. But he was now a completely different man.

The same fear that had engulfed him one night in Malibu so many years before, when he had to open a door knowing exactly what was waiting on the other side, was now embracing him yet again.

"Dr. Wagner, please, that's not who you are. Tommy has nothing to do with me. He is just an innocent baby. Like all those kids you used to help…." Jane begged, trying to reach out with a stretched arm.

"Oh, Patrick, Patrick, Patrick… Why do you play the fool with me? After all, you've been to prison a few times, right? You know what prison can do to a man. And if you were lucky enough to be able to tame even the wildest beasts…" he paused, to let them understand his point.

Suddenly, he stood, and slowly he reached them, still standing few feet of distance. "Besides, I've already killed. One more death isn't going to change anything for me."

"Wagner, please…" Teresa begged, with her eyes closed. She didn't need to hide her tears, though. Hearing her voice, even an idiot would have understood that she was crying. It was the kind of cry of a desperate soul, who was alone and lost in the dark with no way out. It was the cry of a soul who had nothing left to lose and everything to gain. "Wagner, please, please think about how you used to be… my baby… he…." She sniffed, tightening her hold on Patrick. It was so forceful, that he knew that thought she was going to leave bruises, and that he could feel her nails slightly scratching his skin through the thin, soft cotton of his shirt.

In that moment, like hearing his parents' voice had been a siren call, Tommy awoke. He didn't cry desperately; he had always been a quiet baby. He just made tiny sounds, like he was asking for their attention. Just like his father, he wanted everyone to center their own world around him.

Wagner turned towards the baby, and stilled, lost in the sight of the child. Everybody, he thought, did something wrong at some point in their lives, but children were still innocent.

"No, you are right. I can't kill him," he told them sadly. It was like, for the first time, he was finally realizing the magnitude of what he had done to get Patrick Jane exactly where he wanted him to be. "But I can kill you both. Very Shakespearian, don't you think?" he said with a new resolve and full of rage and resentment, taking a couple of steps in their general direction and holding the gun at head height, pointing between their eyes.

"Dr. Wagner, drop your weapon, now," Johnson ordered from behind him, gun in hand, appearing out of nowhere in all her blazing glory. She sounded like the vengeful fury she surely was, like Miss Justice herself, or maybe, an Amazonian princess. Yes, she definitely was Diana of Themyscira, he thought with a small smile. He would have to keep that information safe and sound in a sector of his memory palace, for future reference.

It was strange, Jane kept thinking without noticing. Teresa was like an elf-like and delicate and yet a natural born warrior, which you could see it from her behavior. There was just something that screamed it as soon as you saw her. With Johnson, it was different. Johnson, with her heels and beautiful clothing was completely feminine, although not delicate because of her military brat heritage. Seeing her so strong and resolute, with a gun in hands felt weird and almost unnatural.

"Sorry Brenda dear, I don't think so," he told her and he refused to face her. He continued pointing the gun in direction of the people in front of him, ready to fire and get what he had desired for the last few years of his life. Not returning to practice, but getting Jane and making him suffer because he couldn't be a doctor any longer. He had killed to keep saving lives, and now that he couldn't be the person he had built over so many years, with so much work and effort, any longer, all he could do was keep on killing.

The doctor was out. The monster was in.

"Last warning, Dr. Wagner," she said coldly. Wagner just chuckled, and kept pointing the gun at the small group. As soon as she noticed the smallest movements at the trigger, without hesitation, Johnson fired her weapon three times, in quick succession, like it was natural for the blonde.

Teresa and Jane just saw the commotion, they just heard the sound reverberating through the walls, they could smell the gunshot residue. Fear froze them on the spot as everything stopped existing around them, but then, they finally saw it, Wagner grinning manically as he collapsed on the floor, the bullets leaving red and black and dark circles on his chest.

The gun he was holding, that had just been pointing at them, escaped from his hand, and falling onto the floor, the safety went off. A gunshot echoed through the walls of the room, and when he turned to look at his future wife, to tell her that everything was finally over, he saw her staring at her crimson-stained abdomen.

_The safety's in the trigger. How stupid is that? I mean, it's kind of like not having a safety at all._

She stared at the scene unfolding right before her eyes, quizzically. It was like the world was moving in slow motion, and the sounds coming from their lips she only could describe as strange, grotesque, like a ruined old tape.

She couldn't understand what was happening, and how it happened. One moment she was alright, and then the next, there was blood on her shirt. Who did it belong to? She didn't know. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't been able to fully catch up with the action.

When Jane reached her, frantic, and desperate, she caught up. It was her blood; she had been the one injured.

He hugged her crying like a little lost child, and she collapsed in his arms.

The last thing she saw was her man's green eyes, crying tears of love and desperation. The last thing she heard was her beautiful son's fearful sobs as Johnson took him in her arms.

And, as much as she tried not to give up for them, as much as she wanted to stay with them, to comfort them, and as much as she wanted to be in Patrick's arms for the rest of their days, she failed.

The world went black.


	11. Wish for something and you'll get it

Here we are, with last chapter. Writing this story has been amazing, and I want to thank the artists who've worked with me-Tromana, also my beta, and Browneyesparker. But mostly, my readers and my reviewers, anon, guest and registered alike. It's been an amazing journey that gave me back my desire to write, and it's just thanks to you. It's been great, and I hope I'll see you all soon again with something new...whatever it could be for TRhe Mentalist or any other fandom.

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When Wagner had tried to destroy their newfound happiness, Lisbon didn't know it, but she had been just few weeks pregnant. She had hoped it would happen, she had to admit, but there weren't any certainties. She and Jane had never taken precautions, because they had both silently wanted to add to their little family as soon as possible, while they still had the chance to. And chances were already slim, given Lisbon's age, the stress she had been through lately and her issues during her pregnancy with Tommy.

Teary-eyed and scared for even the remote possibility that whatever procedure could hurt the life inside of her, she had immediately told to the doctors that there was a chance she could be pregnant. In that moment, she knew that she would never get rid of that mental picture, for she had never seen Jane looking so hopeful and ready to embrace tomorrow like when the words escaped her mouth, if not for a brief instant their very first night together, when Tommy had been created.

When the doctors confirmed that her dream was coming true just few hours after her admission in the ER, she had never seen Jane so happy. Sitting at her side the whole time, he had held her hand for what seemed hours, burying his head in her lap, crying and kissing her. He thanked a God he had never believed in before for having saved all of them. Later, when the lights were off, he had whispered sweet nothings to the child in her womb and thanked her for having taken him back. Jane was so grateful for this new chance she was allowing him to have. All the while, he purred like a contented cat while she massaged his scalp to calm him down and assure her man that everything was alright.

Less than twenty-four hours later, the smile disappeared when the doctor explained that the chances of Teresa progressing with the pregnancy were virtually nil. She was stressed and frail; the wound had sent her into shock, and the stress of her son's kidnapping didn't do any good either. It was a miracle that she hadn't lost the baby yet, but it didn't mean she was out of danger. With the way things were, the real danger was progressing with the pregnancy.

That night, they embraced in her bed while they sobbed into each other's neck, and waited to make the hardest decision of their entire lives. Neither them really knew what they were supposed to do. Jane didn't want to lose her; she was the woman he loved and the mother of his son. Lisbon didn't want to kill another daughter of his, because she felt in her bones that it was going to be a girl.

In the end, she talked him into siding with her and fighting for their baby. Jane didn't stop being worried, and the guilt inside his heart kept increasing day after day. The doctors didn't approve of her decision, but it they couldn't actually force them into letting go of their child. They decided to let her stay for at least a couple of weeks and those days were the longest of their lives. Jane had assumed there was nothing worse than losing his own child, or his time inside the asylum, but he knew in that instant he was wrong. Every time Teresa took a test it was like time stopped and the silence of the doctors, who kept quiet about her progress, didn't help either.

Teresa was slowly going crazy; Jane didn't envy her, since he at least had Tommy to escape to. His child was his guiding light, when he couldn't be with Teresa any longer for one reason or another. She wasn't as lucky as he was, and couldn't have the consolation of holding her son in her arms. Infants weren't allowed, and thinking about her baby boy…. she had raised her three brothers, and knew how fast they grew at that age. She knew that she was going to miss so many things, and she wondered if he was still going to recognize her after so long. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn't help it.

Jane knew that pain too well. He had felt that stab the moment he had realized he had missed so much concerning his son. Knowing that Teresa was going to walk in his own shoes just broke his heart. He missed her smile, and would have done everything to make it better, but he didn't know what he could do.

Except… there was one thing she desperately wanted; he had understood it the moment she had cried with him that night she allowed him back in her bed. He was sure he could provide it. It wasn't going to change their situation much, but he needed to see and feel her smile, just for a short while. He needed to remind her that nothing was as bad as it seemed. There was still plenty of time for good things to happen to them in their lives. He needed to remind her there was still room for hope, and it didn't matter what kind of sacrifice it was going to be for him.

After all, Jane had never been raised to be religious, unless it could fit his objective, whatever it could be at the moment. He had never believed in the afterlife as well, but, as cynical as he was, he had never made fun of who choose to believe. The exception was, maybe, Van Pelt, who didn't ever seem able to accept that he wasn't a psychic.

Teresa, though, believed. She had been raised as a faithful Catholic, and he knew that there were certain things she simply couldn't do without. But he knew as well that there was a reason behind her nickname, and Saint Teresa would have never forced him to do something he wasn't entirely comfortable with. Less than a year and a half before, she had slept with him and never asked him to took off his wedding ring. Now, she was still silent, despite her wishes, and a promise ring on a necklace, right on her heart, which was for their eyes only.

Getting married - especially with a religious ceremony – seemed to be one of those things she wanted but she thought he did not. And in part it was true, but for her he knew he could reach some compromises. Every relationship required compromise every so often. And, since she had fulfilled her end of the bargain by taking him back, it was time for him to do something that could make Teresa truly happy. And at that moment, despite her silence, there was nothing she wanted more than marrying him, in front of the law, of men, and God.

Arranging everything hadn't been that hard: the hospital had a small church inside the its property, and Father Adam, who ran it, had been quite happy to do something for a couple in love. Especially so when Jane had mentioned that children (and tragedy) were involved. He explained to Jane that it wasn't going to have any particular legal value as they were unable to get the license a couple of weeks beforehand. But, at least, they would be married in the Church's eyes in some sort of symbolic way.

Even if Teresa had always wanted them to be there, Jane was well aware that two of her siblings weren't going to make it. Michael and James still lived in Chicago and it was too short notice. But, Jane had coerced Thomas - no longer Tommy since the birth of the littlest Lisbon - and Annie into being there. For a short while, the consultant had wished he hadn't invited them, as the outcome didn't seem too appropriate for the former showman. In the corridor of the hospital, Thomas had tackled and then tried to punch his soon-to-be brother-in-law into tomorrow, only to be stopped by Annie. The teen was quite the romantic, and apparently had thought they should be together ever since they first met. There was no need to say it out loud, but she was already Jane's favorite niece and fourth favorite member of the clan after Teresa, Tommy and the unborn child they were expecting in few months' time.

Teresa also didn't have any women by her side, with the exception of her niece and of her boss. Brenda was another romantic. Oblivious to everything that had nothing to do with criminals; she seemed a bit socially awkward when it came to real life. But she had a soft spot for Teresa, so, when Jane asked her to be a sort of bridesmaid, she had immediately accepted. Then, she had even hugged him, crying out of happiness for the couple. Apparently, she had heard the rumors, and one of the reasons she had brought him back out of retirement, apart from the need to improve the closed case record, was that she hoped into a happy ending for them and their little boy. She definitely had a soft spot for them.

The ceremony was short; Teresa hadn't known about it until she had seen the priest waiting for them in front of the altar. Even though she was wearing a hospital gown and her hair was messy, despite her son not being there, she cried and cried and cried. She blamed the hormones, of course. It really didn't matter that Jane had just done the most romantic thing of ever for her. It was for the marriage. For the sacrifice he was doing. It was for the words he said, and his promise. Words he had told her so many times before, that suddenly had a meaning, and were true and honest.

_Teresa, I miss you when you are not around, and how could I not, since I love you? I tried my best to stay away, but I couldn't. You were family even before I realized I was in love with you, and when I realized I had fallen for you, there was nothing I wanted more than building a future with you. I wanted to marry you, and for you to carry my children. And you, Teresa, you took me despite everything, and I can't believe I've been so lucky that you wanted the same things as I did. I know that I've already told you this many times, but this time I'm honest. I promise to never hurt you, to always save you, whether you like it or not. Because, you'll always be my first thought and my last. _

When she heard the sweetest words anyone had ever said, she didn't even care that it wasn't exactly like she had wanted it to be in her teenage dreams. Without being told, she knew that the marriage didn't have any significance in the eyes of the law. But she still loved it so much that she didn't care. It had all the meaning she needed it to have. Jane was by her side, saying yes. Jane had asked her to be his wife, and he was ready to move on with his life, with them. That was what she had always dreamt about. And her dreams were coming true. And if that dream was coming true, then, there was still hope. She could still hope and dream and wish for her baby girl to be alright.

It was like the nightmare was finally over, for the both of them. It was time to dream of little dreams, filled with happiness and joy, putting aside butchered bodies and bloody smiles. They weren't going to forget about the past, but that wasn't what their marriage was going to be about. They were going to add to their little family, and Jane was going to make room in his own heart for yet another baby of their own. Because of that, their baby girl had to be all right. She couldn't even contemplate any other outcome.

Ally was six months old when they got married legally. Part of Jane had wanted to make their marriage legal as soon as possible, but Teresa was still weak after months spent in bed worrying over her child. Their little girl, at the time of birth, had been tiny; she was born six weeks before term, and for a short, while the doctors hadn't been sure whether she was going to make it or not. Jane had spent three days in the ICU, without sleep. Teresa spent as much time as she could at his side, holding his hand. Then, one day, Allyson had shown her true colors to all of them, demonstrating that she was as stubborn as her father and a fighter like her mother.

Even then, with her alright, Jane had decided to wait, in order to have his whole family at his side on the happiest day of his life. Besides, the first thing Teresa had asked her 'husband' after being discharged from hospital was to start looking for a new place together. They needed more space now that they were a four, and Jane knew that, even if Teresa would have never admit to it, she didn't want to return to her place. Not when she knew that Wagner had been there, that he had spied on them while they were going on with their lives like it was normal business. They both knew it was irrational feeling that way now that he was dead, but they couldn't help it.

A few months later, a Navy captain Cho had met during his military days declared them married in a short ceremony by the sea. They were in San Francisco, where she had been truly happy for the first time in her life after her mother's death. Malibu, as much as she loved the ocean there, had never been an option. He couldn't fathom the idea of tainting his marriage to Angela and the sins of his past he had gradually overcame, nor could he disrespect the love he felt for Teresa with images and memories of another woman. Teresa was Teresa, and Angela was Angela. He wasn't going to replace his first wife, or compare the two women. He had just created another wing in his memory palace for his second shot at happiness, life and family, and he was well aware that things were going to be different this time. They had to be. He was another man; bad things had happened to him, but mostly, he was finally an adult, at almost 45 years old of age. He definitely wasn't anymore the 19 years old Angela had gotten married to after their escape.

This time, all her brothers were there and they had managed to patch up their differences with each other – and him. That was his gift to his bride. Minelli gave her away, and Teresa had even few girlfriends posing as her bridesmaids: Annie, Brenda and Wayne's new wife, Sarah. Even Grace and Madeline had returned to witness their union. Only Fran was missing, but he couldn't blame her for that. Because of them, she had gone through a nightmare, and he could understand that she didn't feel like sharing time and space with the very cause of her pain. Teresa knew it too, and even though she missed her friend, just like she had done with Jane, she was willing to give the older woman all the space she needed. Cho and Rigsby were his best men, and he was waiting for her under an arch of white flowers. She was dressed in ivory, with a flowing gown, and her blush awoke sinful images in his mind which he seemed unable to get rid of. The image of her, his for the taking, haunted him until he had her to himself, in the honeymoon suite of the Astoria Hotel.

He spoke his vows first, with the ability of a showman and the deepness of a man crazy in love, saying the same words he had shared few months prior in a small chapel. She followed him, still blushing shyly. That first time, she hadn't had time to think of a promise and preferred to use the usual formula. This time, she took his hands in her owns and spoke words from her soul.

_Patrick, you once told that you needed a woman who could love you for what you are, and that could still want you even after having witnessing the worst you could do. Then, one day, you told me that I was that woman. But the truth is, I love you, not despite of who you are, but because of it. I still want you after so many years, not despite having seen your worst, but because I've been there all the times you showed the world what a good man you are. You also said that you wanted a woman in peace with herself, sure. I don't know if I'm that person, but if I am, it's just because of you. For this reason, today I take you, Patrick Jane, as my husband. _

Her eyes were teary because she still had trouble believing it was actually happening. He grinned, reading her thoughts loud and clear: they had gone through so much together, and yet, sometimes, she awoke in the middle of the night thinking it was just her imagination. She actually sobbed into his shirt when they kissed as husband and wife for the first time. Afterwards, he opened the dances holding his daughter in his arms, and Teresa helped Tommy onto his feet.

A camera took a picture of them, and he smiled. This was going to be a picture to remember love, and not to incite fear and dread. It was a picture of the four of them, his second shot at happiness, his little world.

Teresa, his future.

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A/N: on my site, accessible from my profile here, you'll find the links to everything concerned this story, narration and art alike.


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